Onside
by kymbersmith90
Summary: Emma Swan is running out of options. Her son is desperate for a stem cell transplant that could save his life. So in a moment of madness, she reaches out to an unexpected source for help. Henry's beloved football team. Loosely based on a true story.
1. Prologue

**Kmomof4 has been requesting that I finally start publishing this piece, and given the World Cup madness currently taking place, I've caved to her wishes. This is the most advanced WIP in my folder, but I've been sitting on it for so long as it's a bit of a tear-jerker.**

 **Again, I can't promise a firm update schedule for it. But as you probably know by now, I try not to keep you waiting too long.**

* * *

Emma had to admit, football was not one of her favourite past times. She still didn't understand half the rules of the game, no matter how many times her father, or Henry, tried to explain them to her. But she wouldn't trade her season ticket for anything. Seeing the way Henry's face lit up at those games more than made up for her cold feet and lack of understanding.

David had started taking Henry to games when he was old enough to sit relatively still for the duration of the match. It had been their grandfather-son bonding trip, and as soon as Henry had started showing an interest in the games, it quickly became a tradition.

David bought Henry his first season ticket at the age of five.

Emma had started joining them a year later, when her son just wouldn't stop banging on about this play, or that play, and she really had no idea what he was talking about. She'd hoped that joining them would help her pick up the game faster.

It never did.

Henry missed his first game at the age of seven.

Emma had been sure that it was just a virus, and that he'd be back at Old Trafford in time for the next home game.

But Henry missed eighteen more games that season.

 _Leukaemia._

The diagnosis hit her in the face like a tonne of bricks, and Emma had to excuse herself from her son's bedside to empty the contents of her stomach into the small toilet in his private room.

Her seven-year-old son had Leukaemia.

Henry never lost his spirit. Even on his worst days, he always had a bright smile for his mother and grandparents. David would make a point of coming to the hospital for every game. He'd subscribed to all of the sports channels, regardless of their cost, just so he could stream them to watch with his grandson.

The first bone marrow aspiration was the most painful procedure Emma had ever undergone.

But the physical pain didn't even begin to compare to the emotional blow of finding out that she wasn't a match for her son. And neither were either of her parents.

The logical step was to attempt to hunt down Henry's father. But Emma hadn't seen him since he'd been caught stealing and sent to Strangeways. Neal didn't even know he was a father, and she had absolutely no idea how to go about finding him.

Emma wasn't sure what possessed her to do it, but as she watched her son waste away before her eyes, desperate for a bone marrow match, she decided that it was time to take drastic action.

While Henry and David caught the Champion's League group game that evening, Emma reached for her laptop.

 _To Whom It May Concern,_

 _I am writing today to beg for your help._

 _My son, Henry, is one of your biggest supporters. He's been attending games with his grandfather since he was three. He got his first season ticket at the age of five. And between the ages of five and seven, he never missed a home game, no matter what the weather was doing._

 _This year, my son has missed eighteen games so far._

 _He was diagnosed with Leukaemia shortly after the season began._

 _He still watches the matches with his grandfather, whenever he can. But it's not the same for him. I know he misses the atmosphere in the stadium._

 _My son is in desperate need of a stem cell transplant to save his life. I'm not a match. Neither are his grandparents. I suspect that his father may well be, but he doesn't even know his son exists, and I have no idea where to begin looking for him._

 _The British Bone Marrow Registry hasn't been able to find him a match, so I'm writing to you today to beg for your help._

 _My son loves this team so much, and I'm hoping your team will be able to help him to continue to do so, for many years to come._

 _All I'm asking is for you to please, help me find a match for my son?_

 _Yours,_

 _Emma Swan._

She attached a picture of Henry at one of the last games he had been to, before his diagnosis, and sent the email before she could second guess her actions.

Emma turned her attention back to David and Henry, and their screams at the small television screen in front of them, as she pushed her laptop aside once more.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Sorry for the delay with this one. I hope it's worth the wait.**

* * *

It had been three weeks since Emma had sent her email, and nothing had happened.

Not that she had expected it to.

It had been a desperate attempt, by a desperate woman, to help save her son, and she knew that the chances of it even being read by the right person were slim.

But when Emma arrived at the hospital that morning, it was to find the children's ward full of a kind of restless energy it had never possessed before. The place was usually so somber and resigned, given the prognosis for most of its patients. But that morning, it felt like there was a feeling of anticipation in the air.

"Belle, what's going on?" she asked, as she found one of Henry's favourite nurses emerging from another patient's room.

"You don't know?" Belle asked, a frown creasing her brow. "I could have sworn Whale said they were here for Henry."

"Henry? Who's here for Henry?" she demanded, as her eyes flicked over to the room her son had been living in for the past few months. Emma didn't care who the hell these people were, she wasn't letting them anywhere near her son. She moved to push past Belle so she could make her way down the hall to work out what was going on, but stopped dead when Doctor Whale emerged from Henry's room, pulling off his latex gloves as he did.

"Ahh, Miss Swan," he greeted. "Just the person I was looking for. Do you mind if I have a word in private?"

Emma's heart sank.

Private conversations with her son's doctor never resulted in good news.

"Sure," she reluctantly agreed, handing the bag of food she'd brought with her to Belle, (who promised that Henry would get it), before she followed the doctor into one of the few empty rooms on the ward. Emma was a little surprised to find that two other men were already waiting inside of it, one pacing in front of the window whilst the other sat on the empty bed, swinging his legs back and forth.

"Miss Swan, I believe you know Mr. Gold and Mr. Jones." Doctor Whale pointed to each of the other gentlemen in turn, as they both raised their heads to meet her eyes. While they looked vaguely familiar to her, Emma knew that she'd never had any kind of personal contact with either of them before.

"No, sorry. Are you a part of Henry's consulting team?" she asked. Both men were dressed in jeans and t-shirts, which suggested to Emma that they weren't doctors. But she knew better than to judge people by their clothing preferences.

The older one laughed a little as he stepped forward and away from the window he'd been pacing in front of. "Allow me to make the introductions, Miss Swan. I am Robert Gold, manager for Manchester United Football Club. And this is my Captain, Killian Jones."

Emma's eyes widened as she took in the two men standing in front of her, before she began to laugh. Hysterically.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" she demanded, turning back to face Whale. "If it is… it's not funny. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my son."

"You wrote this email, right?" the younger one asked, taking a small step closer to her. His accent threw Emma for a moment, but when she turned back to face him, her eyes were drawn down to a well-crumpled piece of paper in his hands. "Your son Henry is sick, and you wanted our help?"

"Oh my God. You _actually_ read that?"

"Yeah. We did. Well, Gold told us about it and then we read it." Emma's eyes flicked over to Mr. Gold, who nodded his agreement, before settling back on the younger man's face. "The entire team's here today, ready to make arrangements to be tested to see if we're a match for your son. And if none of us are, then we're going to put it out as an announcement at the next game. The first person to come forward for testing who's a match for Henry will win a free season ticket for the rest of their life. It's not much, but it's the best we can do for our biggest fan."

Emma's hand flew to her mouth to try and cover the sob that left it. Whale caught her just as her knees gave out, and she sank to the floor in a flood of tears. Both of the other men in the room looked a little uncomfortable at the sight of a crying woman, but neither of them said anything as the doctor whispered small words of comfort to her.

"Thank you," she finally mumbled, when she was once again all cried out. It felt like all Emma did anymore was cry. She'd stopped being ashamed of doing it in front of others when she'd first heard the word leukaemia. "Thank you so much for this. Henry's not going to believe me when I tell him you're here."

"He should do," Gold replied with a chuckle, as he pulled out his phone. "The rest of the team have been posting bloody selfies with him all morning. This is apparently their idea of laying low."

Emma took the small device that was being held out to her as another sob threatened to break free. She scrolled through tweet after tweet from Gold's team members, all sharing various pictures of themselves sat around Henry's now familiar bed, with her son's wide smile beaming back at her.

"We hope you don't mind them being posted," Jones stepped in to offer. "Henry said it would be okay."

"It's fine. It's absolutely fine."

Emma couldn't pull her eyes away from the tweets that were scrolling across the screen faster than she could keep up with. The ones without pictures praised the strength and sense of humour her little boy had shown so far in his fight, and there were even some from members of the public who sent their well-wishes for his recovery, or asked about becoming donors themselves.

She'd never seen anything quite like it before.

"Well, how about we let you get back to Henry to enjoy some breakfast, whilst we make a start on getting everyone tested?" Whale suggested, finally breaking the awkward silence that had settled over the room.

Emma handed Mr. Gold his phone back and watched as he followed Whale out of the room, already deep in conversation about how he would need the procedures to be spread out, so as not to interfere with the game the team had that weekend.

"After you, Miss. Swan." Jones held the door open for her to leave first, and Emma sent him a small smile of gratitude as she slipped out of the room, before making her way back down the familiar corridors towards the one her son was resting in.

"Hey, Mum, you're never gonna believe what's happening," Henry called out, the moment she rounded the door to his room. There were three other people still sat at his bedside that Emma didn't recognise. But the excited tone his voice carried had her smile already stretching wider than it had since the original diagnosis had been made.

"I think I will, Kid," she chuckled, as she made her way over to his side to drop a kiss to his forehead. The other people inside of the room seemed to take that as their cue to leave, as they each approached Henry once more with a promise they'd return soon, before heading back out to meet with their manager.

"I have to call Grandpa," Henry declared, almost bouncing on the bed with his excitement. "He's gonna be _sooooooo_ jealous when he finds out the whole team were here."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	3. Chapter 2

Killian had been surprised by how simple the initial procedure had been. Whale had sat the entire team down to explain what would be happening over the next few days, and why. He had been expecting more than a simple blood test, so when the doctor had asked for the first set of volunteers, Killian had quickly raised his hand.

With his blood drawn and the usual lecture from the nurse given, he had fully intended to return to training for the day. But at the last moment he found himself taking a small detour, and instead of heading for the carpark, he made his way up to the Children's Ward.

Killian was a little surprised to find Henry Swan sat alone inside of his room. At the very least, he'd expected the boy's mother to be with him. Instead, the young lad was busy drawing on a piece of blank paper sat on the table over his bed, as he hummed to himself.

"Did your mam have to leave?" Killian asked, before he could stop himself.

Henry turned wide eyes and a bright smile his way, as he set his pencil down. "Yeah. She had to go and run some errands. She's bringing back lunch though. So it's all good."

"Do you um… do you maybe want some company until she gets back?" Killian wondered, as he nodded to the free chair by Henry's bed.

"From you? Always." Henry practically bounced in place as he watched his favourite footballer make his way fully into the room, and take a seat in the free chair beside his bed. "Did it hurt?" he asked, with his eyes locked on the small plaster covering the puncture site on his hero's inner arm.

"The test?" At the emphatic nod of Henry's head, Killian found himself fighting back a smile as he replied, "Not really. I've had plenty of blood tests over the years. You sort of get used to them by the time you reach my age. As long as the nurse knows what she's doing, that is."

Henry snorted into his bed sheets, before lifting his right arm. Killian hadn't noticed the deep purple bruise that surrounded the cannula that had been inserted into it. "Mum says it's a side-effect of the treatment," the young lad explained, at the horrified look on the footballer's face. "But I just think it was the nurse. She did _not_ look like she knew what she was doing."

Killian couldn't contain his snort of laughter at the conspiratorial look on the boy's face, as he relaxed back into his chair a little. He hadn't spent much time around kids before, but Henry Swan was proving to be easy to talk to. "Do you um… do you spend a lot of time here alone?"

The thought of the boy being unaccompanied in a hospital as he was treated for cancer was twisting Killian's insides into a knot. He hadn't spent a great deal of time that morning with the lad, but from what he'd seen and heard from the others, Henry had an incredible spirit for someone of his age, going through as much as he was.

Killian knew from the tone of Emma Swan's email that she was a good mother, who would do anything for her child. But he also knew how demanding life could be. He wondered just how difficult it was for her to balance those demands with her desire to be by her son's side, as he fought off a life-threatening disease.

"Not really. Mum got a job working nights so she could stay with me most of the day. But she still has some stuff she needs to do during that time. She usually tries to get it all done over lunch, so she can bring me something back to eat. Hospital food sucks."

"Yes it does," Killian agreed. "I'm glad your mam was able to work something out for you both. What do you normally do when she's gone?"

"I like looking at the pictures in my comics and making up my own stories for them. Or drawing." Henry pointed to the picture he'd been working on when Killian had interrupted him. One that looked very much like the beginnings of a picture of the boy with his favourite football team. "But it gets a bit boring at times. I don't wanna complain to mum, because I know she works hard. But we can't really afford new books every week."

"What kind of comics do you like?"

"Iron Man," Henry replied excitedly. "Mum doesn't like him because she says he's a playboy. I dunno what that means though."

Killian laughed nervously as the lad turned expectant eyes his way, while he brought a hand up to scratch awkwardly behind his right ear. "Yeah, I uh… I dunno know what that means either," he lied. Not that it convinced Henry, if the look on his face was anything to judge by. "Have you um… have you seen all of the movies?" he asked instead, in an attempt to distract the kid from his line of questioning.

"A couple, but they don't tend to put them on the channels we get in here. Grandpa gets me the sports passes when you play, but we can't really afford the good movie ones too."

"That's understandable."

Killian hadn't stopped to think about how expensive simple things like the movie channels would be to someone in Emma Swan's position. But now that he was, he couldn't even begin to imagine how much money she would be burning through every month, thanks to the cost of hospital stays. Even he had cringed that morning when he'd pulled in and seen the parking charges - and he earned a six figure sum on a weekly basis.

"Would you maybe like to watch one with me now?" He gestured to the small tablet that was sat on the table in front of Henry. It wasn't the best on the market, but Killian assumed that the boy's mother had purchased the best she could afford, so that her son would be able to enjoy _some_ form of basic entertainment while he was stuck in a hospital bed, day after day.

"How?" Henry asked innocently.

"Oh, I um… I have the movie channels," Killian explained. "I have the sports ones too, so if your grandpa wanted to stop paying expensive subscriptions to those, you could always just use my details? I don't tend to watch much TV anyway, as I'm usually busy training. So I thought that maybe you guys might be able to put them to good use for me? Just don't go charging any dirty movies to my account, okay?" Killian regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth, when Henry turned to face him wearing a thoroughly confused expression.

"Never mind," he deflected quickly, before the lad could ask for a description of some kind. "Pass me your tablet and I'll download the apps you need and sign you in."

It didn't take the two of them long to get the right apps installed on the device, nor for Killian to log into his account. Once he had, he passed the small tablet back to Henry, and watched as the boy browsed through all of the new content he would now be able to stream with it, his face lighting up with excitement as he did. It wasn't much, but it was something small that Killian could do to help improve what would probably be the worst days of Henry's entire life.

When the lad eventually made it to the movies section of the planner, and then over to the very first Avengers film, he turned towards Killian expectantly, as he shuffled across his bed.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Coming where?"

Henry nodded to the small space he'd made beside himself on the bed. "You can't see the screen from all the way over there," he explained. "And cancer's not contagious, so you don't need to worry about catching it."

Killian had his mouth open to protest against Henry's assumptions when he saw the humour dancing behind the boy's eyes. The Swan lad had been teasing him, and he was a little shocked to see it. The young boy might have been living with a deadly disease, but he had a better sense of humour than most of Killian's teammates did.

"I don't wanna squash you," he warned, standing awkwardly from his seat.

"You won't," Henry told him confidently, as he scooted a little further over the bed.

At first, taking a seat beside him had been all kinds of uncomfortable. Killian was hyper aware of how close he was to Henry, and all of the wires and tubes that were fixed to the young boy's body. But as the film began to play, and they both found their attentions fully fixed on the small screen, he started to realise that there was nothing for him to worry about. Henry clearly knew how to take care of himself, and he seemed to be enjoying the chance to watch one of his favourite superheroes in action once more, with his favourite footballer by his side.

Until the excitement from the day finally caught up to him, and he drifted to sleep with his head pillowed against Killian's shoulder.

* * *

When Emma Swan arrived back at the hospital later that afternoon, with a box of freshly prepared pasta salad to share with her son, it was to find Henry curled into the chest of one of his heroes. The two of them were sleeping soundly on the small hospital bed, while her tablet blasted out some kind of action movie from the table in front of them.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	4. Chapter 3

When Killian woke, it took him a moment to remember exactly where he was and why. The unfamiliar whiteness of the walls and ceiling were startling at first, until he felt the reassuring weight of Henry's sleeping form against his own, and all of his memories came crashing back over him.

He looked down first to the little boy in his arms, still sleeping heavily, before he cast his eyes around the room. There were paintings that had been hung on the walls, to try and add a little more colour to the space. A woman was sat at the small table beside the window, and there was an even smaller television mounted directly opposite the bed.

It took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to register that something had changed since he'd fallen asleep, before his eyes flew over to the woman sat at the small table beside the window.

"I uh… I'm so sorry," he apologised. "We were watching a movie together and I must have fallen asleep. I didn't mean to intrude."

"It's okay," Emma Swan chuckled softly. "I'm his mother. I'm well aware of just how persuasive my son can be. How long did it take him to sweet talk you into staying?"

"I offered," he admitted bashfully. "I didn't like the thought of leaving him here alone."

"I don't either," Emma admitted sadly. "Unfortunately, I learned a long time ago that in order to still get as much normalcy in your life as possible, while you have a child in the hospital, you sometimes need to leave during business hours."

"I wasn't judging you, Miss. Swan. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this has all been for you."

Emma nodded her agreement as she went back to fiddling with the pages in front of her. "I'm just hoping that this will be the start of the end," she sighed. "I'm um… I'm not sure how much more of this I can take." She turned her focus back to Henry, who was still sleeping peacefully in the arms of his idol, as she thought back on all of the difficult times the two of them had been through together.

The crying and the screaming, on both of their parts. The chemotherapy and the hair loss that had come with it. The vomiting and constant pain her child suffered. The sleepless nights full of worry about if Henry would wake the following morning, and if he did, how she would afford to keep paying their rent.

Emma prayed to every God that she knew of that her email landing in the hands of Mr. Gold would mean that this was the start of their luck turning, and that a match would soon be found for Henry.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Killian offered quietly.

"Thanks, but I think all we can do now is wait."

He nodded his understanding as the two of them sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Killian wanted to offer up anything and everything he could think of, that would help the young woman and her son through this trying time together. But he had a feeling that Emma Swan would be too proud to accept any kind of financial help from him. And other than the tests that he'd already agreed to, he wasn't sure what more he could do for them.

Eventually, he did the only thing he could think of that might help. Killian reached for one of the blank pieces of paper on Henry's table, and one of the brightly coloured pencils that the young lad had discarded.

"This is um… this is my number," he told her, as he wrote it out clearly. "You can use it any time you need to. If you need someone to sit with Henry while you're busy with errands, or at work, I can do that. I can make lunch runs for you guys, or pick you up some groceries. And if you ever need someone to talk to, you can call me anytime of the day."

Emma blushed a little as she reached forward to take the piece of paper from him, before she folded it up to slip in her back pocket. She wasn't sure she'd ever use it, but she couldn't begin to explain what it meant to know that he genuinely seemed to care about Henry's wellbeing and future.

"I um… I should really get going," Killian told her, cringing a little as he tried to extract himself from underneath a sleeping Henry. "Should I wake him up to say goodbye?"

"Yeah," Emma chuckled. "He'll be so annoyed if you slip out of here and he misses that chance." She stood easily from her chair, making her way around to the other side of the bed, to brush Henry's hair away from his forehead, as she softly called out, "Hey, little guy. Mr. Jones has to leave now. Do you wanna say goodbye?"

"Don't wanna," Henry mumbled sleepily, as he tightened his grip on Killian's shirt.

"You have to," his mother told him gently. "Mr. Jones has other places he needs to be."

He didn't say anything else, but Killian felt the way the boy wiggled tighter into his embrace, as Henry's grip on his shirt never loosened.

He looked down at the little man who had such a fierce hold for someone so small, before he relaxed back against the bed once more. "If it's okay with you, I can stay a little longer," he told Emma. "Mam won't mind me blowing off family dinner night this once, given that I have such a good reason to do so."

"Are you sure? I'd hate for you to feel the wrath of your mother," she giggled. "I know what my own can be like, when I cancel on a family function."

"Ahh, but you're forgetting my secret weapon," Killian teased. "The moment I show her pictures of young Henry here, she'll melt and all of her ire will completely drain away."

* * *

When Henry finally woke from his nap a few hours later, it was to the rather surreal sight of his mother and his idol playing some kind of card game on the small table resting over his bed, as they whispered quietly together.

He feigned sleep for a few more moments, hoping to learn some more about their interactions. But apparently his acting skills weren't as good as he'd thought them to be, as Killian Jones's hand came down to tickle him softly, while he declared, "I know you're awake, young man. I felt your breathing change when you started to stir."

"Whatcha doing?" Henry asked curiously, as he pulled himself out of Killian's arms to sit up a little better.

"I'm teaching your mother to play poker," the football captain explained, as he threw a small handful of M&Ms into the middle of the table, and told Emma, "I'll call."

She sighed a little as she sat her hand down in front of her, cringing as she did. Killian had known that she'd been bluffing from the start, but he'd gone along with her play in the hopes of building her confidence.

"You got me, Swan," he sighed dramatically, as he folded the pair of kings in his hand and began gathering up the rest of the cards on the table. "Enjoy your spoils."

"Oh, I will," she gloated, as she popped one of the chocolate treats into her mouth, and winked in the direction of her giggling son.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	5. Chapter 4

"Killian? What on earth has gotten into you tonight?" his mother snapped.

"Nothing, Ma." He cringed even as the words left his mouth. Killian had been distracted all evening, and he knew that it was something his mother would eventually pick up on.

She was like a shark when it came to sniffing out her sons' bullshit.

"Really? So what were we just discussing?" she asked, as she set her fork down to level him with the kind of gaze he used to get as a teenager, whenever he'd done something to disappoint her.

"I don't know," he admitted on a sigh. "Sorry, Ma. I guess I'm just a little preoccupied right now."

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone immediately switching to that one of concern he'd also come to know well, during his teenage years.

Killian hesitated for a moment, wondering how much he should share with his family, before he replied. "There's this kid I met recently, and I guess I just can't stop thinking about him and his mam."

Moira's look of concern only seemed to intensify at Killian's explanation, so he rushed on to add, "Henry, the kid… he has leukemia. His mam got in touch to ask for our help with finding him a stem cell donor, and so far, it's not been going well. We all agreed to be tested to see if we were matches, and the hospital is processing our results now. But even with the sudden influx of people that joined the donor registry after seeing some of the team's tweets, nobody's been declared a match yet. It makes me think that our hopes of finding him one are much slimmer than I first thought they'd be."

"Oh, Sweetheart," she sighed. "That's so good of you to do."

"I just wish I had those results back. I feel completely useless right now."

"You're doing all you can," his mother assured him. "Which is much more than most people would do in your situation."

"I keep thinking about his mam, Emma. She's clearly struggling with everything that's going on right now, and I wanna do something to help… to make this easier on her. But I don't know what more I can do."

"An anonymous donation?" his brother suggested, between mouthfuls of their mother's legendary lamb hotpot.

"No. She'd see right through that," Killian argued. Because in the week since he'd last seen Henry and Emma Swan, he'd considered the same thing many times over. "Hey, Liam… do you know where I could find comic books?" he asked suddenly.

"No," Liam mumbled, as all eyes around the table seemed to swing around to focus on the eldest Jones brother. "Why would I?"

"I dunno. You've always been sorta nerdy," his brother teased.

"Just because I don't care much about football, doesn't mean I'm automatically a nerd," Liam protested.

Killian shrugged his shoulders playfully, and then quickly dodged the arm his brother threw out in his direction. It was an argument they'd had many times before, and one they were likely to continue having, until they drew their last breaths.

* * *

"So, tell me more about this Henry," Moira asked, as Killian helped his mother to clean up later that evening.

"He's great, Mam. So full of life… and he just radiates this positive energy. Some of the guys on our team could learn a lot from him. I um… I offered to keep him company last week, while his mam had to run out and get some stuff done. I just… I wish I could do more for him, you know? It doesn't seem fair that someone so innocent is suffering so much."

Moira dropped the towel she was holding to the counter top to lean over and squeeze her son's arm gently. "You're a good boy, Killian," she praised.

"I was thinking about maybe dropping by to see him again, and taking some comic books with me," he explained softly. "Henry said that he was getting a little bored of reading the same ones over and over again, so I thought that might make him smile a little. But I don't want his mam to think I'm intruding."

"Given that she reached out to ask for your help, I don't think you'll need to worry about that," Moira assured her son, as she picked up her towel to continue her work. "But if you want a good excuse to stop by the hospital again tomorrow, then I can give you one."

"You can?"

"Yes. Take me through when you finish training so I can be tested," she told him.

"You don't have to do that, Mam." Killian knew how much his mother hated the sight of needles and blood. Visits to the hospital never went well for her.

"You're right, I don't _have_ to do that. I want to," she assured him. "If I can help save someone's life with a stem cell donation, even if it's not young Henry's, then I think that's something I should definitely be doing."

Killian leaned in to wrap his arms around his mother, as he gave her a gentle squeeze. "Thanks, Mam. You're the best."

"Well of course I am. Where do you think _you_ get it from?" she joked. "As for your comic book conundrum, may I suggest Google. I'm sure it'll be able to suggest at least one store in the Manchester area that sells _some_ form of comic books. Those will get the lad by, until you can have some more delivered to him."

"Thanks, Ma. You're a genius."

The two of them worked in companionable silence for a moment as Killian scraped each of the plates clean into his mother's composing bin, and then handed them over for her to rinse down, before she placed them into the dish washer.

It was those kinds of domestic moments that had always helped to keep him grounded, when the club had first signed him. Moira had been determined to make sure that her son wouldn't turn into one of the footballers she often saw splashed all over the _wrong_ cover of the national newspapers. And Killian was incredibly grateful for that.

When he'd first started receiving his salary, the temptation to blow it all on flash cars, expensive clothing and nights out with his teammates had been high. But a few months into his training he'd quickly come to learn that Gold didn't tolerate any kind of bad behavior in his team. The man had kids and grandkids that looked up to the footballers that worked under him. And he was going to make damned sure that every single man in that squad was the kind of role model parents would be proud for their children to follow.

"So… tell me about Henry's mother," Moira asked suddenly, startling her son out of his thoughts. "What did you say her name was again?"

"Emma," Killian replied, a little too quickly.

"Tell me about her?" she asked. "Where's Henry's father?"

"He doesn't know he has a kid. He's definitely not in the picture, and from what little Emma wrote about him in her email, he sounds like he doesn't deserve to be a father."

Moira hummed thoughtfully but said nothing else, as Killian went on to explain about the desperate email Emma Swan had sent to her son's favourite football team, and all of the sacrifices she had made to be with Henry, while he was receiving his treatment. The more Killian spoke, the more Moira's heart ached for the young single mother and her precious child, who were both fighting so hard against the cruel hand life had given to them.

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 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	6. Chapter 5

"You couldn't have taken a shower first?" Moira asked, as she slid into the passenger's seat of her son's car.

"I did shower," Killian explained, frowning a little in confusion.

"Then you need to air out this car. It stinks."

He chuckled a little as he started the engine once more, and pulled out of the drive to head for the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital. Killian could tell that his mother's nitpicking was more of a side-effect of her nerves, than it was about the state of his car. But he still made a mental note to have it cleaned when he was finished that afternoon.

"How was training?" she asked, as they settled in for the short drive to the other side of the city.

"It was good. Robin's still not fully fit, so the gaffer's not massively happy that he'll be missing the derby this weekend. But there's not much we can really do about that."

"Do you think it'll effect your chances of getting the result?"

"I hope not," he replied honestly. "But Robin's the driving force in that back four. And I'm just not sure that John is strong enough to hold the defensive line for us, in the way that we really need him to. City are gonna be relentless in their attacks, and we need someone solid there to keep everything under control. But you know Gold. He's gonna make sure that John puts in the best performance of his life this weekend."

"Oh, he definitely is," Moira chuckled. But her laughter died the moment she realised that her son was already pulling into the car park for the hospital.

"Are you okay, Ma?" he asked, as he switched off the engine and unbuckled his belt. "You do know that you don't have to go through with this, right?"

"I want to," she assured him, as she squared her shoulders and stepped out of the vehicle. Killian followed his mother's lead, pausing to grab a couple of large bags from the luggage compartment, before he joined her again.

"How much did you bring for the lad?"

"I dunno. I just grabbed anything I thought he might like," he explained, with a small shrug.

Truth be told, Killian had explained to a couple of his closest teammates about his next visit to Henry, and his desire to bring the boy some things that might cheer him up a little. So the guys had helped him raid the Megastore the night before, for everything they thought would fit Henry, or that he might like. When combined with the books that Killian had found in the Trafford Centre, it was probably a little excessive. But he was going to make sure that he laid most of the blame on his teammates, if Emma Swan asked about it all.

"You're a good lad," Moira assured her son, as she followed his lead over to the children's hospital, and then through the building.

Even though he'd only been there once before, Killian found his way to the ward that Henry was staying on easily enough, and asked for Doctor Whale at the nurse's station. He knew that the longer they waited around, the more his mother's nerves would build. So he wanted to get her tests over and done with before he took her to meet the little boy that had wormed his way into Killian's heart.

"Ah, Mr. Jones," Whale greeted, as he held out a hand for shaking. "What can I do for you today?"

"It's actually more like what we can do you for you," Killian explained. "My mother would like to be tested and entered into the stem cell donor registry."

"That's excellent news. Shall we get you into my office, Mrs. Jones? We can go over all of the details there?"

"Please."

Killian knew that having more details would help to reassure his mother, so he was glad to hear that Whale would be taking the time to give them to her. But he was a little surprised by what she had to say next.

"Why don't you go and take that stuff to Henry?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. Killian had been pretty certain that she would have wanted him by her side for the test itself, so that she could crush his hand with her nerves while the blood was actually being taken. Having her dismiss him so easily felt a little worrying.

"Of course. I'll be fine with Doctor Whale here." She linked her arm with the doctor's and the two of them took off for his office before Killian could even think to utter a word of protest.

"Okay then," he muttered to himself, before he bent to pick up his bags once more, and set off down the corridor towards the room where he knew he would find Henry.

He wasn't surprised to find the young lad alone inside of it. He knew that with it being close to lunchtime, it would be likely that Emma Swan was out running whatever errands she needed to do, while businesses were still open. But he was pleased to hear the familiar sounds of Age of Ultron reach his ears, as he rounded the doorframe.

"Hey, Lad," he greeted warmly. "Have you got some time for visitors?"

Henry's face lit up at the familiar sound of his hero's voice, as he paused the movie playing on his tablet and dropped the device down onto his lap. "Always."

Killian chuckled at his enthusiasm as he struggled through the small doorway with the heavy bags in each hand, before sitting them down beside the hospital bed in the room.

"What's all of that?" Henry asked, his natural curiosity already piqued.

"This? This is for you," Killian explained. "It's just some stuff I had laying around the house that I thought you might like. Do you wanna see it?"

"Yeah!" Henry could barely contain his excitement as he bounced a little on the bed, while he watched the footballer sort through the contents of each bag.

"Okay… the guy at the store who sold me these said they're omnibuses, which means there's more than one story in them. I don't know if they're what you were after, but they sounded cool," he explained lamely, as he placed five heavy, hardback books onto the table by Henry's bed.

"Oh my God, these are amazing," the kid praised, as he picked them up to flick through each one. There was one for Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, the Incredible Hulk, and Spider-man. "Thanks, Killian."

"You're welcome, Kid," he chuckled.

The relief that flooded his system at Henry's praise warmed him from the inside out. Although he'd never admit to it, he'd lost a few hours of sleep worrying that he'd been sold something that Henry would hate, because the omnibuses looked nothing like the comic books that he remembered from his childhood.

"The rest of this stuff all has some kind of logo on it, so I hope that's okay," he sighed, exaggerating it for effect as he pulled out a cushion in a familiar shade of red, with the United logo emblazoned on the front. There was a matching fleece blanket to go with it, along with a pennant that Killian hung over one of the more crazy looking pictures on the wall – much to Henry's delight.

"This is fantastic," the young boy declared, as he wrapped himself up in his new blanket, and propped the cushion behind his head.

"This is only the start," Killian chuckled. "There's much more to come."

* * *

 **Just in case you guys aren't familiar with the terminology - a gaffer is British slang for a football manager, and a derby is a game played between two teams based in the same city. In this case, it would be a game between Manchester City and Manchester United.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	7. Chapter 6

"Why does it look like a Megastore threw up in here?" Emma asked, as she made her way into Henry's room.

At first, she was too distracted by all of the red that now covered the space to notice the rather sheepish looking man, perched on the side of her son's bed. But as she slowly turned to take in all of the changes that had been made, her eyes fell easily on Killian Jones, dressed head-to-toe in the same Manchester United branded merchandise as her son was now wearing.

The two of them were huddled together on the small bed, watching what sounded like some kind of superhero movie, on what appeared to be a Manchester United branded laptop.

"Look Mum, Killian came to visit again," Henry declared excitedly.

"I can see that," she chuckled. "What uh… what made you guys decide to redecorate while I was gone?"

"I um… I brought Henry some stuff I had laying around the house."

Emma sat a bag of takeaway food onto the table beside the window, and then made her way over to her son's side, to examine the new merchandise that now covered his bed.

"And that stuff still had the tags on it?" she asked, as she picked up a corner of the blanket to show the footballer what she was talking about.

"Well… I've never used it before," he argued. "And they send us a lot of free stuff for being part of the team."

Emma hummed thoughtfully before she flipped the cardboard label in her hand over, and quirked a brow up at him as her suspicions were confirmed. "Why do they put price tags on the stuff that they send to you for free?"

Killian opened his mouth to make his counter argument, and then snapped it shut when he realised that he didn't have one ready for her.

 _Damn, she was good._

"I thought it might cheer Henry up," he offered instead.

Emma took in the bright smile on her son's face, and then the guilty expression on Killian's. If cheering Henry up had been the football captain's aim, he'd certainly achieved that. She was just a little worried about what the cost of that generosity would be.

"Can I um… can I talk to you outside for a moment, Mr. Jones?"

"Killian's not in trouble, is he?" Henry worried. "Because I can give all of this stuff back, if he is."

"It's fine, Kid. You keep it. They're gifts for you," Killian told him firmly, as he leaned down to ruffle the boy's hair.

"He's not in trouble," Emma assured her son. "I just wanted to speak to him about some grown-up stuff. We'll be right back, okay?"

Henry still didn't look convinced, but he nodded his head reluctantly before turning his attention back to the laptop screen in front of him.

Killian inclined his head to the door, indicating that Emma should leave the room first, and then followed her out and down the corridor to the empty waiting room. After closing the door softly behind the two of them, he turned to face Henry's mother, who had a nervous look on her face.

"Look, Mr. Jones," she began.

"Killian," he interjected. "You can call me Killian."

Emma smiled softly at that before she corrected herself. "Killian… I appreciate that you want to help Henry. I really do. But… if you really want to make him happy, then just come and see him whenever you can. He'll appreciate that much more than he would any kind of material gifts. And if you can't, or you don't want to…please, be honest with him about that. Don't try and buy your way out of it with expensive gifts, because he'll just end up hating what they represent. Especially when they're gifts that we can't afford to pay you back for."

"A gift is not something that you're expected to pay someone back for, Swan. I don't expect anything in return for them. I just… I know this stuff is all materialistic, and it doesn't do much to help in the grand scheme of things. But… I wanted to make him smile. And so did the rest of the guys on the team. Yeah, we all went a little overboard. I think everyone knows that. But for most of us, we've never really had the chance to spoil someone like this before. This isn't me buying myself out of the friendship I've formed with your son. This isn't me trying to alleviate my guilt. I'll be back. As often as you guys will have me. I just… I just wanted him to have some of the things that I get access to, and never really use."

Emma smiled bashfully as she turned her gaze down to the toes of her boots. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of such generosity. While her parents had done everything they could to help her out, they hadn't been in a position to gift her large items and sums of money, like some of her friends had received. She'd always had to work hard for what she wanted, and when Henry got sick, she found herself working even harder. So having someone else come in and dump her son's wish list into his room was a little hard to accept, especially when there seemed to be no strings attached to his generous offer.

Killian Jones wasn't using his gifts to undermine her, or as a way to have her owe him a favour at some point in the future, like some of the guys in her past had done before. He appeared to genuinely want to do something nice for them – something nice for Henry.

And hearing that he wanted to continue visiting her son was probably the best gift he could have given to them both. Emma knew Henry well enough to know that the little boy already loved having his idol in his life. So knowing that Killian was willing to stick around warmed her heart.

"Okay," she agreed. "The gifts can stay. But the laptop goes home when you do. That's _far_ too much."

"As long as I can bring it back with me when I come next, I'll agree to that."

"And no more extravagant gifts. It's not really fair on the rest of the kids here."

"I brought stuff for them too," he added. Because Will had made a similar suggestion during their raid, and Killian didn't want to leave anyone feeling upset because of his actions.

"Of course you did," Emma sighed. It was getting really difficult to stay angry at the guy when he was so damned sweet and thoughtful. "But no more. Henry doesn't need all of this stuff. Just come and talk to him and he'll be over the moon. I can guarantee you that."

"I can uh… I can come and visit a couple of times a week? Maybe when you're out running errands, so he's not alone."

"That would be perfect. Thank you."

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, just smiling softly at the agreement they'd come to, before Emma inclined her head towards the door once more. "Did you want some lunch?" she asked. "I always buy extra on treat days, just in case Henry decided he can face more than one burger."

The thought of fast food burgers turned Killian's stomach a little. They never settled well with him, and he tried to avoid those kinds of restaurants as often as he could. But the idea of sharing a meal with Henry and Emma Swan was oddly appealing, even if their choice of food wasn't.

"That would be nice. As long as I'm not eating someone else's share."

"Not at all," she chuckled. "If I'm being brutally honest, I can't really stand the stuff. So having someone to share it with will be a blessing. Henry loves it though, and as long as it makes him happy, I'll choke it down."

The loud bark of laughter that left his mouth made Emma jump a little in surprise, as she headed out of the small waiting room and back to her son's bedside, with Killian Jones just a step behind her.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	8. Chapter 7

**Happy Holidays, Everyone.**

* * *

Killian was half way through a game of 'Go Fish' with Henry and Emma Swan when the sound of a familiar voice drifted through the halls of the hospital, to meet his ears.

"Shit," he cursed, before his eyes widened comically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I uh…"

"It's okay," Emma chuckled, jumping in to save him as she picked yet another card from the top of the pile. "He's been to your games before. I've heard what they chant at those things. And it's a lot worse than _shit_."

Killian took a moment to relax back into his place on the bed, relieved that Emma wasn't angry at him for swearing in front of her son. Until she asked, "What's up?"

"I uh… I didn't come here alone today," he explained, cringing a little as he did. His mother's voice was getting closer with every moment that passed.

"Did you bring your girlfriend?" Henry turned wide eyes up to his idol, and Killian quickly shook his head no.

"I don't have one," he told the young boy, before his eyes moved back to Emma's face. "My uh… my mother came with me."

"You left your mother in the car?"

"God no. I wouldn't survive the night if I'd done that." Emma and Henry both burst into giggles at his words, as Killian shuddered a little at the mere thought of how well that hypothetical situation would go down. "She's been with Doctor Whale. She um… she wanted to get tested too," he whispered softly.

Emma sucked in a harsh breath at his words and Killian turned worried eyes her way, scared that she'd banish him from Henry's side for over-stepping his mark.

"You didn't need to do that."

"She wanted to," he assured her. "She wanted to help. Even if she couldn't help Henry, she wanted to be able to help _someone_."

Emma bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling, and Killian sent her a small smile before turning his attention back to their game. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, while she was in an emotional situation.

"My mother's a little loud and… you know, I'm not really sure there's an adequate word in the English language to sum her up," he chuckled. "But she wanted to come and say hi to Henry, if that's okay with you both?"

"Is she as cool as you are?" Henry wondered.

"Definitely not," Killian scoffed. "Nobody's as cool as I am."

Henry giggled at his friend's words just as there was a sharp knock on the open door to his room. The little boy was obviously unaware of the tension that small sound caused, as he called out a cheery, "Come in," while Emma straightened up in her seat, and Killian's hand flew up to his hair to try and somehow tame the post-training mess it had become.

"Hello," Moira greeted softly, as her eyes swept over the small space. "Good God, Killian. How much did you buy?" she asked, as her gaze lingered over the pennants hanging over paintings, and the curtains that were now covering the windows.

Emma giggled a little at the way Killian's mother had managed to call him out so quickly, as the man himself seemed to flounder for words. Eventually he settled on just one. His protest of, "Mam," was delivered much the same way Henry always whined her own name, when she told him it was time for bed.

Apparently, that was something men didn't grow out of.

Moira shook her head affectionately as she watched for a moment while her son interacted with the young boy sat beside him on the small hospital bed, and then turned to greet the only other woman in the room.

"Moira Jones," she offered. "You must be Emma Swan."

Emma stood to greet Killian's mother, wiping her palms down the back of her jeans so that she wouldn't offer the older woman a sweaty handshake. But before she had fully straightened up, Moira had pulled her into her arms for a warm and affectionate hug.

"How are you doing?" she whispered quietly, while Killian distracted Henry by making his next move in the game.

Moira allowed Emma to pull back a little so she could meet the other woman's eyes.

Emma had planned to lie to Killian's mother. To give her the same words that she gave her own parents, every time they asked her the same question. But there was something about the genuine concern that she could see behind this stranger's eyes, that had her swallowing the words back down. Instead, she offered up the only words she had. "I'm here," she said, because those two simple words seemed to convey everything that she couldn't say in that moment.

"Yes, you are," Moira agreed.

She couldn't even begin to imagine how tough things had been for Emma Swan since Henry's diagnosis had come through. She offered the younger woman a sympathetic smile, before turning her full attention to the lad that was currently sat as close to her son as he could get. The two boys seemed to be playing an impromptu game of snap, that Killian was deliberately letting Henry win. But the giggles that fell from his lips every time her son called out the word and gently pressed his hand down over Henry's, just that second too late, were worth the small act of deception.

"Hello young man," she greeted, making her way around to the side of the bed Killian was half-hanging off. "You must be Henry."

"Hi," Henry called back. He cocked his head a little as he surveyed the newcomer to the room, and then declared, "You don't look like Killian."

Moira chuckled a little at the words, before she dropped down into the seat behind her. "Killian got most of his looks from his dad," she explained. "I gave mine to his big brother."

"I'm the better looking one," Killian stage whispered, which earned him a slap to the back of his head, from his mother. "I just meant that your beauty doesn't translate onto Liam's manly figure," he tried to argue. But the brow Moira cocked in his direction told him that she wasn't buying his bullshit.

And if Henry and Emma's giggles were anything to judge by, he knew that they weren't either.

"How are you feeling?" his mother asked the lad.

"I'm okay," Henry told her, but his eyes dropped down to watch as he fiddled with the new blanket over his lap, and everyone in the room could tell that was a lie. "I got sick again this morning, but it's all done now."

Killian's heart lurched in his chest at Henry's whispered words. He wondered how long the little boy had spent vomiting before he'd arrived at the hospital, and how often it had happened to him since he'd been admitted.

"I'm sorry. It's never nice being sick," Moira soothed. "Is there anything that makes you feel better that we could get for you?"

Henry shook his head no as he cuddled the new Manchester United branded bear to his chest. "It's the chemo. But when it passes, I feel fine." His little face seemed to brighten with his words, almost as if to prove his point, and Killian wrapped an arm around the lad's shoulders as he offered him an awkward hug.

Emma had gone very quiet at her son's admission, but a quick look in her direction told the Joneses everything. Her mind was lost in memories of those mornings, holding up Henry as he vomited out everything that he had inside of him, and then some more, until he'd collapse into a shivering heap in her arms. She hated watching him go through that. And she hated even more that there wasn't a damned thing in the world that she could do to help him.

"How about you and I play another game of snap, and we send your mum and Killian down to the coffee shop to get some sweet treats?" Moira suggested, as she shifted forward a little in her seat. Her look at Killian told him that this wasn't something that was up for debate, and Henry easily agreed to the plan when his idol suggested bringing back a hot chocolate for the boy.

Emma looked a little less convinced about the whole thing, but Moira's gentle encouragement of, "You look like you could use some fresh air, Dear," had her reluctantly standing from her own seat.

"You'll be okay here with Mrs. Jones?" she asked, as she ran a gentle hand over her son's head.

"Uhuh," Henry agreed, his attention already entirely focused on the way the older woman was able to shuffle the deck of cards so effortlessly with one hand. "That was so cool," he professed. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

"I can certainly try," she chuckled. "Killian never got the hang of it."

"Hey," Killian protested, as he pushed himself up off the bed, and made to move past his mother. Moira was already on her feet, moving her chair a little closer to the bed to make their game easier to play.

"Talk to her," she whispered, when her son was in earshot. "She needs someone to talk to. Someone who'll listen."

Killian nodded his understanding even as he swallowed down the instinct to run away from the entire situation. He didn't know Emma Swan well, so he wasn't entirely sure how she'd react to some stranger pushing her into talking to him. But he would try.

Because his mother's instincts were usually spot on when it came to situations like these.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding out his arm for Emma to take.

She blushed a little at the old-fashioned gesture, but slipped her arm loosely though his when she noticed her son watching the two of them, and replied with a simple, "We shall," as Killian guided them from the room and down the hall.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	9. Chapter 8

"So, what can I get you?" Killian asked as he stepped into the Costa that was located on the ground floor of the hospital.

"You don't need to do this," Emma protested. "We can just head back up if you want to?"

"Well, I'm getting coffee," he told her, taking small steps back until he was at the end of the line of people waiting to be served. "If you wanna go up alone, feel free to. But I should probably warn you now that my mother _will_ ask you a ton of invasive questions when she has you alone."

He watched for a moment as Emma seemed to weigh up her options before she took a small step forward, and then another until she was beside him once more.

"Do you always use your mother as an excuse to get some time alone with women?"

"Only the really pretty ones," he teased gently, as he winked in her direction.

As much as she tried not to, Emma couldn't stop herself from blushing a little at his words. She wasn't blind. Killian Jones was an attractive guy. And while she didn't know as much about the footballer as her son did, so far, he'd come across as nothing but genuine with his intentions. She knew that he hadn't paid her a compliment to try and take advantage of her when she was at her most vulnerable. But there was still a part of her mind screaming at her for reacting the way she had. Because she also wasn't stupid. The guy probably had dozens of much better-looking women all around the globe, that he would rather spend his time with.

"What would you like?" he asked when it was finally their turn to place their orders.

"Um… just a latte please?" she asked politely, as she browsed through the menu. She didn't want to order anything too fancy and spend more of his hard-earned money, given what he'd already bought for Henry that afternoon.

"Are you sure?" he prodded. "You can have anything you want, Swan. I'm not gonna judge you for your choice of coffee." As if to make his point, Killian turned back to the guy staring slightly slack-jawed at him behind the counter and placed one of the most complicated coffee requests she'd ever heard.

"Can I uh… can I get a hazelnut latte with an extra shot and skimmed milk, please?" she asked when both men turned their attention her way. "Henry should just stick with hot chocolate, though."

"We'll grab something for my mam and Henry on the way out," Killian assured her. "Did you want anything more enjoyable to snack on while we're here?"

Emma wasn't really sure where it came from, but the urge to reply, ' _yeah, you,'_ rang through her mind, and she shook it forcefully to dislodge thoughts of _that._ Now was not the time for her neglected libido to be making itself known, just because he'd called her pretty.

"I'm good, thanks," she told him instead.

Killian turned his attention back to the guy still staring somewhat dreamily in his direction, and rattled off a list of pastries and sandwiches he wanted to add to their order before he pulled out his wallet to pay for everything. Emma turned away to give him some privacy as he did, but when she turned back, she wasn't surprised to find their server clutching a pen and an empty bag to his chest.

"Would you uh… would you mind signing this for me, Mr. Jones?" he asked, as he sat it down before his hero. "I'm a huge fan, and _really_ hoping we take back the title this year."

"Me too," Killian chuckled. "It'll make my life a hell of a lot easier if we do." He took the pen that had been placed in front of him and quickly glanced up to the badge the other man was wearing, before he bent his head to begin scribbling across the page. When he was finished, he pushed both items back in the direction of their new owner and then offered his hand for shaking. "It was lovely to meet you, Adam."

"You too," Adam gushed, as he handed over the last of their order. "Thanks, Mr. Jones."

"Do you get that often?" Emma wondered, as she followed him over to one of the small tables at the back of the room.

"Occupational hazard. But it's not so bad. It's the City supporters that _despise_ you that are the worst. You really have to watch what you're doing, and what they're doing, in those circumstances."

"Really?" she worried, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Why?"

"I've had people try and trip me before, to stop me playing in the next few games. Someone once spiked my drink, and I caught a waiter spitting in my food too. Football is truly a beautiful game, but some fans take it just that little bit too far, you know? Like I love my club, and I have a lot of loyalty to them. But not enough for me to want to cause physical harm to someone else."

"Damn. I never realised football got so violent," Emma mused, as she sipped at her drink.

"You've clearly been watching the wrong games," Killian teased gently, laughing along with her.

When they both quietened back down he allowed a comfortable silence to settle around them as he demolished one of the sandwiches he'd bought, and a muffin, while Emma watched on in quiet fascination.

"I burn a lot of calories," he explained, shrugging it off easily as he reached for another. "So uh… does… does Henry get sick often?"

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift instantly, and Killian could almost see the way Emma Swan's walls descended along with it. She went from looking relaxed and carefree to tense and closed-off in a matter of seconds. And he kicked himself a little for causing it.

"It's the chemo," she told him, matter-of-factly. "They've been trying some anti-sickness meds to help with it, but every now and then he has a particularly bad reaction and they don't seem to work. It's not as often as it used to be, though."

"That's one good thing, I suppose."

"Yeah. And it doesn't seem to bother Henry too much once it's over." Emma didn't need to add how much it bothered her. Killian could see that in the haunted look lingering behind her eyes.

"How much longer does he have on this round?" he asked instead, because he'd definitely done some Googling after first meeting Henry and Emma Swan. But his knowledge on the subject was still fairly limited.

"One more week for this cycle. But if we can't find him a donor anytime soon, then he'll be back on it again in a few weeks."

Killian wiped his palms across the leg of his jeans before he reached out to cover the hand that wasn't on Emma's coffee cup with his own. "Hopefully it won't come to that," he told her. "We should be getting our test results back soon. And the club already has a statement to release if none of us is a match. I'm sure we'll find him a donor, Emma. Even if we have to fly one into the country for it."

"Thank you," she whispered back, before biting down on her tongue to stop her tears. Emma wasn't as confident in their success as Killian appeared to be, but she appreciated that he wasn't giving up hope on finding them one just yet.

Because if Henry had any chance of surviving this, she knew that hope was the one thing they all needed to cling onto. For as long as they possibly could.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **As a small note, I feel like I should point out that not all City supporters are as bad as Killian says in this chapter. Those are just some examples of the more extreme behavior footballers have reported.**


	10. Chapter 9

"So, when do you need me?" Killian asked, as he balled up the last of the packaging from his snacks and threw it into the nearest bin.

"Excuse me?"

"To sit with Henry. When do you need me?"

"Oh." Emma's mind had gone somewhere completely inappropriate at his words, but she honestly hadn't expected him to be serious about that offer.

"Weekends are tough for me, obviously. And if possible, afternoons are better than mornings, as the Gaffer won't appreciate me skipping out on training every few days. But if you really need me first thing in the morning, I can certainly make an exception. We also have Champions League group games coming up, so I'll be flying around Europe for those, mid-week. And we occasionally have mid-week league games too." He paused for a moment to draw a breath and then chuckled a little bitterly. "Wow. Hearing that back makes me sound like such a diva."

"It's fine," Emma assured him. "I get that you already have responsibilities in your life. My parents are the same. They try and spend as much time here with Henry as they can, but Mum's a teacher and Dad's a cop. So their schedules aren't as flexible as they wish they could be. Just uh… just having you make the offer means the world to me."

"You still have my number, right? You can always call when you need me. And our game this week is on Sunday, so I could come by Friday afternoon and let you get some stuff done?"

"That uh… that would be great. Henry would love to see you again."

"Then it's a date," he promised, pushing himself up to his feet. "I'm gonna go and order for the lad and my mam, did you want anything else?"

"I'm good. I'm just gonna run to the bathroom, though."

Killian nodded to show that he'd heard her, and Emma made her escape. She'd been visiting the hospital long enough to know where all of the bathrooms were now, so instead of heading for the ones directly opposite the coffee shop, she made the short walk down the corridor to the ones close to phlebotomy. They were hardly ever used, so were always better smelling than the alternative.

Once inside the small room, Emma locked the door behind herself and used the silence and privacy of the moment to draw in a few deep breaths. Ever since the entire team had shown up in Henry's room, things had seemed so surreal for her. She had never dreamed that anyone would bother reading her email, let alone act upon it. And yet here she was, having coffee with someone Henry swore was the best footballer in the world, while his mother sat with her son.

It was another moment to add to the long list of surreal ones that had happened, since Henry's diagnosis.

After using the facilities, she took a moment to freshen herself up. Emma wasn't stupid, she could see the bags under her eyes, barely concealed by her foundation. Her hair seemed to have lost all of its usual luster and volume, which was why she'd found herself scraping it back into a ponytail most mornings. And she knew she'd lost a lot of weight over the past few months too. Her clothes now hung off her in an unflattering way, but she didn't exactly have the time to go shopping for new ones.

Standing next to Killian Jones, who somehow managed to make an Addidas tracksuit look like designer wear, she was sure she looked even worse. But both his mother and the man himself had been far too kind to comment on it.

Sighing a little at her reflection she reached for the door once more and flicked the lock so that she could pull it open. Emma startled a little at the sight of the man leaning casually against the wall opposite, but smiled when he offered her a soft one of his own. She wasn't sure why Killian had taken such an interest in herself and Henry, but she genuinely appreciated all that he was doing for them.

"I saw you headed this way and figured I'd find a bathroom before I ended up completely lost," he explained, as he fell into step beside her while they made their way back up to Henry's ward.

"Yeah. The toilets down here are much nicer than the ones round by the café."

Killian screwed up his face in disgust at the mental image Emma was painting for him but didn't say anything. He could tell that her mind was somewhere else, and he didn't want to annoy her with small talk while she was lost in her thoughts. He'd wait for her to break the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of them.

"So, uh… who are you playing this weekend?" she eventually asked.

"City. It's the big Manchester derby. I'm surprised your lad hasn't said anything about it to you."

"Oh, he probably has. I tend to tune the football talk out after a while," she admitted reluctantly. The last thing Emma wanted to do was offend the guy who had been offering to help her. But she also didn't want to lie to him either.

"You should meet my brother. He does the same thing." Killian chuckled to show that there were no hard feelings, but his face hardened a little when Emma replied with, "Maybe one day." He suddenly found himself wanting to keep her and Henry as far away from his older brother as he could get them, and Killian wasn't entirely sure why. They weren't _his_ in any sense of the word. And if Liam could provide another source of comfort to the two of them, then he shouldn't be the one to deny them that.

But he couldn't ignore the sour taste left in his mouth when he thought of his brother connecting with Emma, over their dislike of something he was so passionate about.

"Do you uh… do you think you'll watch the game now that you've met most of the team?"

"I doubt it. My dad usually comes over to watch the games with Henry, and with the two of them crowded around the tablet, there isn't really much space for me. I'll probably just come back down to Costa with my mum for a while."

Killian nodded his head in understanding, but the idea of Emma not getting to watch him play left him feeling a little disappointed. He knew he was good at what he did, and games like the Manchester derby gave him the perfect opportunity to show that off. He just wished that Emma Swan would be able to see it.

"Well, when Henry's back on his feet and out of that bed, we'll make sure you guys all get to see a few games together," he promised her.

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"I wish I could take credit for this, but it wasn't my idea," he assured her. "Gold's been talking with our investors about it. When Henry's recovered, he wants to give you guys access to one of our private lounges for at least a season."

Emma stopped walking for a moment as she turned to face the man at her side. She might not have been a big fan of the game, but she had booked enough tickets to know how much private VIP packages sold for.

"Gold wanted it to be a lifetime pass," Killian continued, not having realised that his companion was no longer at his side, but instead staring at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes. "The investors are a little reluctant to go that far, given how young Henry is. I think he's trying to compromise with like ten to fifteen years."

"Fif… fifteen years?" she croaked out.

Killian finally turned to look her way and startled a little at just how far behind she'd fallen. "Don't worry, Emma. It wouldn't cost the club much, and it'll be good publicity for them. But don't tell him I told you about it. Gold wants it to be a surprise for Henry." A worried look crossed Killian's face for a moment before it evened out once more. "I swear that man tortured people during the medieval times in a past life."

At the look of horror that crossed Emma's own features, Killian rushed to add, "Squats. He'll make me do squats. Hundreds of them. And he'll stand and watch to make sure I do them all."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	11. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the delay with this update. I ran into some technical difficulties.**

* * *

"So, Emma's pretty," Moira stated, as she slid into Killian's car later that afternoon.

She'd enjoyed her own coffee while Henry had sipped at his hot chocolate and torn into a couple of doughnuts. But the young boy had started yawning before he could finish his drink, and they'd both felt it was only polite to leave so that he could get some rest. Henry hadn't let either of them go without awkward hugs to avoid the wires taped to his body, and a promise that they'd be back to see him soon. A promise that Moira and Killian both easily made, and fully intended to keep.

"Yes, she is." Her son's tone gave nothing away, and if anyone else had been in the car with them, they could have been forgiven for believing that he was more focused on the road than the topic of conversation at hand.

But Moira knew him better.

"She could use a night out, don't you think? The poor girl probably hasn't had one in years."

"Seriously, Ma?" Killian scoffed, as he finally pulled his eyes away from the window screen to flick an annoyed glare in her direction before he turned back to focus on the road. "Her son's lying in a hospital bed with a deadly disease that's slowly killing him. I'm pretty sure dating is at the bottom of Emma's list of priorities right now."

"Don't be so morbid, Killian. People are helping. Henry will find a donor," she snapped back. Her tone told him that there was absolutely no room for argument in that statement, but it wasn't necessary. Killian had no intention of arguing with her beliefs because while he didn't know the family well, the idea of something happening to Henry had him blinking back the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"And I wasn't suggesting a date," she continued, a little calmer. "I was merely suggesting some time away from everything to just let her hair down and relax for a bit. _You're_ the one with dating on your mind."

Of course she'd turned that around on him. He should have seen that one coming.

"I don't have dating on my mind, Ma. I just wanna help Henry and Emma as best I can. That's all."

Moira said nothing else, but Killian could tell from the look on her face that this certainly wasn't the end of that discussion.

* * *

When he had finished training on Friday afternoon, Killian stopped off at the best bakery in the city, before he made the drive over to the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital. He knew that Emma usually brought back lunch for Henry, so he didn't want to step on her toes in that respect. But he figured the boxes of doughnuts would be a nice middle ground, and a great way to treat everyone else on the ward.

After all, who didn't like doughnuts?

But when he knocked on the familiar door to Henry's room and poked his head around the doorframe, the sight of the unoccupied space made him freeze in his tracks.

"Are you lost?"

Killian pulled his eyes away from the empty bed to focus on the woman who was sat at the small table near the window, knitting something that looked like a scarf.

"I'm looking for Henry Swan."

"They have a children's entertainer come into the hospital every Friday. Belle took him down to see the show while he was feeling up to it. They should be back soon."

"Oh, thank god," he mumbled, as he made his way into the room and sat one of the boxes of treats down onto the table over Henry's bed. When his hands were free he gently wiped them over the jeans he'd changed into, before extending one in the older woman's direction. "I'm Killian."

"Mary-Margaret," she replied, returning his shake firmly. "I'm Emma's mother."

"Of course. You're a teacher, right? She's mentioned you before."

"Most days, yes," she chuckled. "I've traded my teaching hat for the day to sit with Henry. Emma's a little under the weather and she didn't want him to be alone this morning."

"Oh no. Is she okay?" Killian dropped down into the seat next to Henry's bed and propped his chin into his left hand.

"She got a little sick last night. It's probably nothing serious, but Henry has a severely weakened immune system. So it's better for her to be at home and away from him until it passes."

"Jesus, I never even thought about that," he muttered. Killian was generally a pretty healthy person. His training regimen and strict diet helped in that respect. But he'd remember to make sure that he stayed away from Henry if he even so much as sneezed from that moment on. "It must kill her being away from her lad," he added, as a quiet afterthought.

"It's certainly not easy. But it's better than the alternative."

Killian raised his eyes to meet Mary-Margaret's and nodded his agreement. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he were the reason Henry got sicker, so he could certainly understand why Emma had chosen to stay away.

"Is there uh… can I do anything for her? I um… we have an excellent team of doctors if she needs to see anyone? Or I could send her some soup or something so she doesn't have to worry about cooking while she's feeling unwell?"

"I'm sure she's fine," her mother assured him. "Thank you for the offers. Emma said that you were a sweet guy, but I have to admit that I had my doubts."

Killian raised a brow in question and she huffed out a chuckle, before finally dropping her knitting project down to the tabletop.

"My husband's been a football fan for as long as I've known him," she explained. "And as a police officer in this city…"

"He's policed game days before," Killian supplied for her. Because of course he had. Why hadn't he put that information together when Emma had first told him about her parents?

"Yes. And as such, he's been privy to a few different incidents over the years. Around half of them are either initiated by player conduct on the pitch or exacerbated by it. So when she said that you were offering to spend time with Henry, I was a little sceptical about your motives."

"I can assure you, Mrs. Swan, my motives are nothing but genuine."

"I'm beginning to see that."

A slight commotion out in the hallway drew their attention over to the open door, and Killian's smile widened when Henry was pushed through it and into his room by a vaguely familiar looking nurse. The young boy was in a wheelchair, with all of his usual wires and tubes attached to large poles on either side of the back of his seat. But he was wearing one of the United training shirts that Killian had nabbed for him earlier that week, with the number ten and SWAN printed onto it in the official font for the season. And tucked around his legs was the red crested blanket.

"Hey, Lad. How was your morning?" Killian asked, as he stood and pushed his own seat back a little to let the nurse get as close to Henry's bed as she could. She took the blanket from his lap and draped it over the table, but Killian had his own hands extended to help Henry from his wheelchair before she could.

"It was good," he said, as he allowed his idol to pull him up to his feet. Killian kept a tight grip on his arms as Henry shuffled his way over to the bed, and then pulled himself up and into the middle of it.

Belle could tell when she wasn't needed, and called out a cheery, "see you later, Henry," before she left room to let his grandmother tuck the sheets around him once more, as a premier league footballer helped position his pillows for him.

"They had a magician this time. But he wasn't as good as Dynamo."

Killian chuckled as he took a seat at the end of Henry's bed. "I'll tell him you said that the next time I see him."

"You know Dynamo?" Henry asked, his eyes widening with his surprise.

"Of course. Who doesn't?"

"Mum doesn't like him. She says he freaks her out."

"That's only because he's so good at what he does." Killian winked conspiratorially, and Henry started giggling. "I'll take you to see one of his show when you're feeling better," he promised. "Maybe we could change your mother's mind if she sees his work in person?"

"Definitely!"

Neither of the men in the room noticed as Mary-Margaret slipped her knitting back into her bag and picked up her jacket from the back of her seat. She could also tell when she wasn't needed, so she wanted to slip away and check on her daughter, while Henry was distracted. As Killian told her grandson about how training for the Manchester derby was going that weekend, she made her way over to the door and threw a casual, "I'll be back in a few hours, Henry," over her shoulder.

But she wasn't entirely sure either of the guys had heard what she'd said.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	12. Chapter 11

"Morning, Emma. How are you feeling today?" Belle asked, as Henry's mother was buzzed into the unit.

"Much better, thanks." Emma hadn't vomited since Thursday evening, but she'd stayed away from the hospital and it's high risk patients on Saturday too, just to make certain that whatever virus she'd caught was out of her system. She hated being away from her son, but the last thing she wanted to do was infect him with an illness that could end up killing him, thanks to his weakened immune system.

"How's Henry?"

"Oh, he's fine. He's been spoiled with attention while you've been gone. The footballer stayed until we had to kick him out on Friday evening, but he bought dinner for everyone on the ward, including the nurses, so nobody complained too much. And both of your parents were here all day yesterday to keep him busy."

Emma shook her head fondly at Belle's revelation. She'd spoken to Henry on the phone each night that she'd been gone, but her son had neglected to mention just how long Killian had stayed with him.

(And so had her mother, which wasn't like the Mary-Margaret Swan that she knew and loved.)

"Thanks, Belle." Emma offered the other woman a small smile before setting off down the corridor to head for Henry's room. She wasn't surprised to find both of her parents already comfortable inside of it. Her mother was sat at the small table by the window knitting a new scarf for a friend of hers, while David was perched on the bed beside his grandson, already taking about the day's football games.

"Mum!" Henry declared excitedly, as he saw her step into the room. "How are you feeling? Did you get our flowers? I wasn't sure if I remembered our address right."

"I did, thank you." Emma slipped her arms out of her jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, before she pressed a kiss to the top of her son's head.

On Saturday morning a knock had sounded on her front door, and she had answered wondering who the hell could be looking for her. Emma wasn't expecting to see a delivery driver holding a large bouquet of colourful flowers, so she'd burst into tears at the sight of them. After awkwardly signing for her delivery she'd taken them inside to stand on the coffee table, and picked out the small card sat in the middle of the bunch to read the inscription written upon it.

 **We hope you feel better soon.**

 **We miss you.**

 **Love,**

 **Henry and Killian.**

 **X**

She'd cried some more at Killian and Henry's thoughtful gesture. Emma couldn't remember the last time someone other than her parents or her son had cared enough to tell her to feel better. And nobody had _ever_ bought her flowers before.

But that hadn't been her only delivery of the weekend. A little after midday another knock had sounded and she'd pulled open the door to find a different delivery driver stood on the other side, holding a large box for her to take. After shifting it into her arms she'd offered him a thanks and then kicked the door closed on her way back to the lounge.

Emma had to push aside the bouquet of flowers to sit the box down on her coffee table so that she could open it. Inside, she'd found a few large containers filled with some of the best soup she'd ever had. One was a chicken noodle that she'd warmed through and eaten immediately, and the other a simple tomato soup that she'd stood in the fridge to have later that evening. There were a couple of packs of tinned ginger ale down one side of the box, along with some bottles of sports drinks and a few large bunches of bananas. But what was quite possibly the best gift she'd ever received was hidden under the food, and in a separate bag.

As Emma had shook out the large, grey, fluffy blanket to tuck around her legs, a small envelope had fallen onto the floor at her feet. After sitting her empty soup bowl aside she'd leaned down to pick it up, before eagerly tearing into the paper. Inside was a simple 'get well soon' card, and a one-hundred pound Costa gift card.

 **Try and take it easy while you feel sick. Henry's in good hands. The soup is some of the best in the city, for when you feel up to eating again, and the Gaffer swears that bananas are fantastic for an upset tummy. Mam's the one who suggested the ginger ale, and the sports drinks are to help you stay hydrated when you finish vomiting.**

 **The gift card is for when you feel better ;-)**

 **I'll stop by the hospital on Monday afternoon when I finish training to see Henry. Hopefully you'll be there too.**

 **All the best,**

 **K.**

It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone had ever made for her, and Emma had cried some more as she'd eaten one of the bananas and then curled up under her new blanket to get some sleep.

"Did you see what Killian sent us?"

"Huh?" Emma asked, as her son pulled her out of her memories and back to the present.

Henry nodded his head to the flat screen television on the wall, but it took Emma a moment to notice the little box that had been connected to it.

"What the hell is that?"

"It says it's some kind of streaming box," her father replied, as he pointed to the discarded packaging that now sat by the window, waiting to be recycled. "It's so that we can watch the game in slightly better quality than your tablet offers."

"And it just happens to let someone else watch it with you," Mary-Margaret mumbled, even as she kept her eyes trained on the knitting needles in her hands.

Emma shot her mother a curious look but nobody seemed in a hurry to explain things to her, so she tried her best to shrug it off as she took her place beside Henry's bed.

"So… when does this game start?" she asked, reaching into her bag to pull out the tubs of popcorn that she'd brought with her.

"One o'clock, Mum," Henry said, like it was common knowledge to everyone else in the world. Emma chuckled at his antics as she reached for the brand new remote control that sat on the table in front of him.

"That's hours away. I guess that means I can catch up on EastEnders while you guys wait for the match to start?"

David and Henry both yelled their objections to that plan far louder than either of them should have, considering they were in a high-dependency unit in a children's hospital. But Emma couldn't bring herself to shush them. It had been years since she'd seen her son as happy and lively as he was that afternoon.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 12

"So, which one's Killian?"

"None of them," Henry replied, throwing his mother an exasperated look. "United play in red."

"I know that, but don't they also play in other colours too?" Emma was pretty sure she'd seen that somewhere before. She just wasn't sure when, or where.

"Only when they're away from home, and playing another team that also has a red home strip," her father replied patiently. David knew that he'd definitely explained this before, but his daughter obviously hadn't been paying attention at the time.

"Like Liverpool," Henry supplied helpfully. "Or Arsenal."

"Okay. Away kits when playing a team in red. Got it."

Grandfather and grandson shared an amused look that said neither of them thought Emma would remember the crash course in football she was being given again that afternoon, but at least she seemed to be taking an interest in the game, unlike her mother.

When the United team finally started filling the tunnel beside the City players, it didn't take long for Emma to spot Henry's new best friend. Killian Jones was right at the front of the team, talking away animatedly to the young boy that was clinging to his hand for dear life. She was pretty sure the kid wasn't listening to a word his idol was saying, but it beat the awkward stillness she saw between some of the other players and the children stood by their sides.

"So, why are the kids there too?" her mother asked, as she looked up from the scarf she'd almost finished knitting to scan the television screen, before turning her attention back down to her needles.

"They're club mascots," David chuckled. "They're not there to join the game."

"That's a shame. They'd probably be better at it than the professionals," his wife snarked back.

Emma hid her chuckles in the latte she'd treated herself to earlier that day with the gift card Killian had bought for her, as her son covered his with some truly awful fake coughs. While Henry and David had managed to talk Emma into joining them for the odd game at Old Trafford, Mary-Margaret had always refused. The phrase, _'I'd rather gouge my eyes out with rusty spoons'_ had been used on more than one occasion, so Emma was surprised that her mother hadn't yet found an excuse to escape from the room for the next ninety minutes.

When the players started leaving the tunnel to make their way out onto the pitch, Emma could sense the change in the two men to her left. Henry and David both seemed to shuffle forwards in their seats, anticipation already gripping them both. Mary-Margaret rolled her eyes at their antics before turning her attention back down to her knitting needles, but Emma kept her gaze fixed on the small television screen.

After going through the usual pre-game rituals of hand-shaking and pennant exchanges, the teams took their positions on the field, and Emma did her best to follow the large number 10 on the back of Killian's shirt as he made his way around the pitch. It wasn't easy, though. The moment the whistle blew to start the game the men on the field were a blur of sky blue and red as they ran up and down the pitch. She had no idea how her father and son seemed to be able to keep up with it all.

If Emma were being completely honest with herself, the first fifteen minutes of the game didn't do much to hold her attention, and she found herself scrolling through Facebook on more than one occasion. It was only when she heard the commentators mention Jones that she found her head snapping up to watch just as the ball went sailing over to the other side of the pitch. The cameras zoomed in on Killian as he lifted his leg to bring it down and under his control, before his head shot up to take in the players around him, and their positions on the field.

"Yes," David praised, watching intently as Killian began to run. He was weaving in and out of the space that was being rapidly closed by a number of sky-blue shirts while he headed ever closer to the goal.

Instead of trying to score as she'd expected, Killian's head came up once more to watch as… _someone else in red_ … made a run into the penalty box, and he sent the ball sailing across the pitch, aiming for the space his teammate was running into. The other guy – Walsh if Henry's commentary was anything to go by – jumped. His head connected with the side of the ball to send it sailing into the top of the net, and the crowd in the stadium went wild.

Emma watched with fond amusement as Henry and David both cheered loudly and hugged each other tightly while they chanted, "Walsh, Walsh, Walsh," before she turned back to see the celebrations taking place on screen.

Apparently, professional footballers celebrated their goals by jumping all over each other like children on a playground.

"Did someone score?" Mary-Margaret asked sweetly.

"We did, Grandma!"

"Well, that's excellent news. Hopefully that means your grandpa won't be too moody when we leave here tonight."

"Hey!" David protested. But he didn't try to deny the accusation. Everyone in the room knew how the outcome of a game could affect his mood. Especially on a derby day.

"Killian did real great, Grandma. He set up the goal and it was incredible. I can't wait to ask him how hard it was to control that ball when I see him on Monday."

"When am I gonna get to meet this guy?" David asked.

Emma tried not to laugh at how her father was pouting over the fact that his grandson, daughter, and wife had all met one of his club idols, and he hadn't. But it really was a ridiculous look on a man of his age.

"You should come when you finish work on Monday," Henry told him. "Killian won't mind staying late. He was here until ten the other night."

"Ten?" Emma gasped, as she turned to face her son who had suddenly gone red in the face. "Visiting hours finish at _eight._ How the hell did you manage to keep him here until ten?"

"I dunno. I guess the nurses must like him."

"I bet they do," she mumbled quietly, as she turned her attention back to the TV. Henry seemed to relax further into the bed as she did, believing that he'd gotten away with that little slip-up. Until his mother added, "I think we're gonna need to have a conversation with Mr. Jones about your bedtime when he gets here on Monday."

"Oh, Mum! Do we have to?"

The look she threw back to Henry told him that they were _definitely_ having a bedtime conversation when they next saw Killian, no matter how much he protested that decision.

"Ugh, she's so embarrassing," he whispered quietly to his grandfather.

David wrapped his arm around his grandson's slim shoulders and pulled the young boy in a little closer as he whispered back, "She's your mother. It's her job to embarrass you in front of your idols."

Henry considered that statement for a moment before he turned eyes sparkling with mischief up to his grandfather to ask, "Does that mean it's your job to embarrass her too?"

"Of course!"

* * *

When the game finished a little over an hour later it was with a three-nil win for Manchester United. While Killian hadn't scored any of the goals himself, he'd seemed to be instrumental to the team's success that day, and Henry and David couldn't stop raving about the team's performance.

Emma hadn't been as engrossed in the game as her father and son had been that afternoon, but she didn't miss a word of what was said when Killian gave a post-match interview for the network after leaving the pitch.

Not that she would ever admit to that.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	14. Chapter 13

"Good afternoon, Swans!"

"Hey, Killian," Henry greeted excitedly. "How was your training session?"

Killian took a moment to set down the handful of drinks that he'd brought up to the ward with him before he answered Henry's question. "Brutal! Have you ever tried swimming with weights pulling you down? I don't recommend it." He passed the young lad a small cup of hot chocolate before holding out a coffee to Emma, who had so far been silent since his arrival. "How are you feeling?" he asked, when she reached out to take the drink from him.

"Much better, thank you. And uh… thanks for everything you did last week. It was really sweet of you."

Killian brought his right hand up to scratch adorably behind his ear as he told her, "we just wanted you to know that you were missed. Didn't we, Lad?"

Henry looked like he was paying absolutely no attention to what the grownups in the room were saying, but when he heard his name he uttered an, "uh… yeah?" before diving into the subject that he'd been most eager to talk about. "You were _incredible_ on Sunday, Killian. I can't believe they didn't give you man of the match."

Emma was surprised her son had managed to wait so long to get that out. He'd been counting down the hours until it was officially 'afternoon' since she'd arrived at the hospital that morning.

"Well, Walsh did score twice for us, so I can see why he got it," Killian argued, taking a seat beside Henry's bed as he reached for his own cup of coffee.

"Yeah, but you set up two of the goals _and_ you held the midfield up strongly. Grandpa says Walsh is just a goal-hanger and gets too much credit for being in the right place at the right time. Some of the time."

Emma snorted into her paper cup as she watched Killian's eyes widen comically. He clearly hadn't been expecting that kind of analysis from his new best friend, and she could almost see his mind racing as he attempted to work out how best to word his reply without throwing one of his teammates under the bus.

"Well… Walsh's job is technically to score the goals."

"Yeah, but your job is to maintain the left wing and you don't just hang around over there. You get back behind the ball if you're needed. And I'm pretty sure you've _never_ been offside as much as he has."

Killian threw Emma a look that screamed _help_ , and she tried her best to keep her face straight as she asked, "what is all this offside business? I never really understood that one."

"How long do you have?" he asked, raising a cheeky brow in her direction.

Emma flushed a little under his attention and turned her eyes down to the paper cup between her hands.

"In its simplest form; if I were in the opposition's half of the pitch and I was about to receive the ball from one of my own teammates, in order to be considered onside I need to keep my head, body, and feet behind an invisible line created by the second defender."

Emma knew that her face reflected her confusion at that moment as Killian chuckled a little at the expression she was wearing. He took a quick sip from his coffee cup before setting it down on the small cabinet beside his chair and then pushed himself to his feet. Emma's eyes widened as she watched him move easily around Henry's bed to take a seat in the chair opposite her, at the small table by the window.

"Okay," he announced, as he took a quick look around the room and snatched up Henry's tablet and two plastic bottles. " _This_ will be our goal," he explained, sitting the tablet in front of Emma. "Fanta bottle here is our first defender. He's the guy that hangs back as close to the goal as he possibly can at all time's as a last line of defence before the goalkeeper. Evian is our second defender. He's not quite all the way back, but he rarely ventures past the halfway line."

He lifted his head to meet Emma's eyes, making sure she was still with him before he reached into his pocket for his phone. "This is me, coming forward because we have the ball and we're obviously trying to push it up the field to score." Killian set his phone down on the table so that it was just behind the point where the Fanta bottle ended, and explained, "Here, I'm onside. All of my body parts are behind an invisible line drawn across the pitch at the point where our Fanta bottle is standing. So as long as I stay in this position when my teammate touches the ball to send it my way, I'm onside. If I make my run just a second too soon and my leg ends up past this line when the ball is touched, then I'm offside. Does that make sense?"

"I think so." The look on Emma's face told both Killian and Henry that the footballer's little demonstration had gone completely over her head. "But isn't that a little unfair? I mean, how are you supposed to keep your eye on the people around you _and_ on the ball too?"

"That's part of the game," he chuckled. "Sometimes we end up offside and haven't realised it. But if we're good at our jobs, then we should be able to keep those factors in mind before we move. Football isn't just about athleticism, it's about tactics and teamwork too."

"Huh. I guess I've never thought about it that way before."

Emma didn't voice what was going through her mind at that moment, but she didn't really need to. Killian and Henry both knew that the next game she saw she'd be watching with a new outlook on the sport. And Killian was more than a little proud of himself for being the person to change her view of the game, even if it was only a minor change.

"Did you um… did you happen to see any of the match yesterday?" he asked, as he busied himself with slipping his phone back into his pocket a little more carefully than he normally would.

"A bit. I'm ah… I'm a little ashamed to admit that I wasn't hooked on it the way that Henry and my father were."

"She was on Facebook," Henry helpfully supplied, even as his mother shot him a look that told him to stay quiet.

"But I saw you set up that first goal, and uh… I saw your interview after the game. You were very gracious towards your fellow teammates."

"Thank you. It really was a team effort, though. If you ever have the misfortune of seeing us play with ten men, you'll get that. Losing one person puts a lot of stress on the rest of the team."

"Well… I hope I won't get to see that anytime soon." Emma lifted her head to offer Killian a shy smile. It was one that said she was planning to watch United's next game with her son, even if she didn't love the sport the way that Henry did.

Killian returned her smile with one of his own, happy to know that although Emma and Henry couldn't be in the stadium with him for luck, they'd at least be watching the match and hoping for a win.

* * *

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	15. Chapter 14

David wasn't ashamed to admit that when he walked into the hospital on Monday evening, he almost walked straight past his daughter. Normally, she was glued to Henry's side, and only work and business hours would force her to leave her son. So he certainly wasn't expecting to find her in line at Costa, waiting on a coffee order.

"Emma?" he called out tentatively, because he still wasn't entirely sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Oh, hey Dad! Do you want a coffee?" she asked, as she spun from the counter to face her father.

"Uh… sure." David shrugged his shoulders and made his way through the small selection of tables to stand beside Emma, who had already asked the barista for his usual. Father and daughter stood in silence as the rest of their order was gathered and handed over until the barista behind the counter delivered their total. "I'll get this," David offered, because Costa was expensive at the best of times. Inside a hospital, they seemed to double their prices.

"It's fine," Emma assured him, waving away his offer. "It's on Killian." She showed her dad the small gift card that had been hidden in her left hand while she'd been waiting, before handing it over to their barista. As it was scanned, Emma started handing bags of food and trays of cups to her father, before she took the small piece of plastic back and picked up the last of their order.

"Jesus, Ems. How much food did you want?" he chuckled, peering into one of the bags as his daughter offered their server a smile and thanks.

"It's not for me, it's for Killian. He eats a lot of food."

David laughed a little at that observation as he followed her through the corridors and into an elevator. The journey up to Henry's ward was a familiar one, and one that he hated knowing so well. No parent (or grandparent) should ever have to make that trip in their lifetime, but David did it every week without fail. And every time he did, he prayed to any God that was listening that it would be his last.

"So uh… the footballer's still here?" he asked casually, as they stepped out of the carriage and began navigating more of the hospital's bland corridors.

"He's been here since one o'clock," Emma chuckled. "He and Henry are glued at the hip these days. Literally. They were drawing when I left them to get drinks, but so far today they've also FaceTimed half of his teammates, watched a video Killian made for Henry of Old Trafford, watched a movie, read a book together, and taken a nap."

"Wow. He uh… he doesn't do things in half measures, does he?"

"Nope. He um… he seems to genuinely care for Henry," Emma whispered quietly. It was such a beautiful thing for her to see. With Henry being so sick, he'd missed his entry to school and with it, he'd missed out on the process of making new friends. Most of the friends her son had were all in critical conditions themselves, and he'd been forced to say goodbye to a few of those already. Seeing Henry light up every time Killian came to visit often left Emma in tears at the end of every evening because she had honestly never expected that from someone like Killian Jones.

"Well, it's nice to see him making an effort," David praised. He'd encountered far too many footballers in the city who didn't seem to share the same mentality, and they were certainly nowhere near as famous as Henry's new friend.

"You mean like you have?" Emma teased. David threw his daughter a look asking her to explain that statement and her chuckles turned to full-blown giggles. "You're wearing your best jeans and shirt. You only _ever_ wear that shirt when mum makes you go somewhere fancy."

David spluttered a little as he tried to word his argument and eventually settled on, "it was the only clean shirt I had left."

"Bullshit! You live with mum. _All_ of your shirts are clean," she snorted, as she turned into the doorway of her son's room and froze a little at whatever sight greeted her there. "Killian! You didn't need to do this."

David was only puzzled for a brief moment before Emma moved further into the room and allowed him a clear view of the trays of food waiting for their arrival. He wasn't sure what each one contained, but every step he took brought him closer and closer to a mouthwatering scent.

"This was more selfish than it looks," the young man protested, and David almost swallowed his tongue. That was definitely Killian Jones sat beside his grandson's bed, looking slightly sheepish at the reprimand his daughter was giving to him. "I have a strict diet that I need to follow, so I can't really miss meals like most people can."

"Uhuh. And the last time you were here and missed a meal, that didn't count? Or the time before that?" she challenged.

"Those are _exactly_ why I ordered. I'm just following the Gaffer's instructions. I promise." Jones's arguments were falling flat, thanks to the little boy sat next to him giggling away like mad, undermining every word he spoke.

"And did the Gaffer tell you to feed us all too?" Emma asked, propping her hands onto her hips.

"Lord, no. That was my mam. Do you have any idea what she'd do to me if she found out that I'd ordered food for myself and not for you guys?" Killian shivered a little at whatever thought was passing through his mind and Henry lost any sense of control at the sight of it.

"Your mum's not _that_ scary," the young boy protested around his giggles.

"That's because she likes you. Just wait until she sees me doing something dumb! I swear, she's scarier than the Green Goblin in that situation."

"I'm gonna tell Moira that you compared her to the Green Goblin when I see her again," Emma taunted, as she took a seat at the small table by the window and peeled off the lid on the foil tray sat in front of her.

"God, please don't." Killian seemed to visibly pale at the mere thought of what his mother would say and Henry's giggles started again, loud and boyish. David couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Henry laugh like that before, and he had to bite down hard on his tongue to stop his own eyes from watering at the thought.

"Oh, Dad… this is Killian. Killian, my father, David Swan," Emma introduced, waving a hand between the two men.

Killian had only just seemed to realise that there was someone new in the room as he quickly abandoned his own food and stood from his seat to offer David his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Sir."

David floundered for a moment before setting the drinks he was carrying down onto the nearest flat surface to accept the greeting. "You too," he replied on autopilot, still somewhat stunned by the entire scene that he'd just witnessed.

"Henry chose your food for you, so blame him if it's wrong," Killian explained, throwing a conspiratorial look behind himself at the young boy still laughing on the bed.

"I'm sure it's not," David chuckled, as he made his way around the room to offer his grandson a hug and a kiss. He slipped off his coat and hung it over the back of the only free seat in the room, before reaching for the foil tray sat on the table waiting for him. "But if this is what I think it might be, I'm gonna be blaming _you_ when my wife starts moaning about my cholesterol levels."

Killian nodded as he took that statement in and then shrugged it off. "That seems fair," he agreed, dropping back down into his seat to begin digging into the food that he'd ordered.

* * *

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	16. Chapter 15

"I think it captures the real me," Killian explained, looking down to the piece of paper in his hands.

"Does uh… does the _real_ you have a foot bigger than your head?" Emma snorted out, as she bit down on her lip to try and control the giggles building inside of her.

Henry wasn't even trying. The little boy was laughing so hard that the bed was shaking underneath Killian, and while the footballer wanted to be annoyed that they were clearly mocking his lack of artistic abilities, he couldn't bring himself to be angry about anything that made Henry and Emma laugh like that.

"It's metaphorical," he bluffed. "It's supposed to convey the importance of my feet. You know, because I'm a footballer."

Emma cocked her head to one side as she studied the picture Killian had drawn of himself. "Okay… so what's the metaphorical importance of your left hand?" she asked.

David shot the other man a look that said he should absolutely _not_ voice whatever had caused that spark of mischief to flare to life behind his eyes, and Emma rolled her own at their antics.

"You know what, I think we're done critiquing mine now. Show us yours, Swan."

"Mum's really good," Henry threw in. He sounded so proud of her abilities that any hesitation Emma felt at showing off her own drawing all-but disappeared, and she quickly scooped it up from the table top.

"It's only a rough sketch so go easy on me," she warned, before turning it around with a flourish.

Killian's jaw dropped with his surprise.

When Henry had said that his mum was good, Killian had assumed that the kid thought she was good based on a limited knowledge and understanding of the art world. He didn't think that Henry meant she was actually _really_ good.

"Wow, Swan. You've uh… you've been holding out on me."

"It's not my best work," she explained, blushing a little at his compliment. "I'd normally prefer more than just thirty minutes to work on a portrait. But it's not the worst I've done either."

"If that's not your best work, I can't even begin to imagine how good you'd be with more time. That's amazing!" Killian reached out to take the page from her hands and Emma reluctantly let go of it. She'd always enjoyed drawing, but she'd never really been a big fan of showing off the things she sketched. She drew because it helped her to relax, not because she wanted praise for her work. But when Henry had suggested that they should all draw a picture after dinner, she hadn't wanted to be the only person to refuse. So while the others had opted to create self-portraits, Emma had decided to focus on something else. She had taken a picture earlier that day, when Henry and Killian had been distracted by another superhero movie, and that had been her source of inspiration for her sketch.

The way that she'd managed to capture her son's absolute joy, and Killian's contentment at being a part of their lives, had left the latter of the two feeling a little breathless as he looked down at the likeness of himself on the page. While fans had sent him their artwork before, nobody had ever drawn him so realistically.

"Uh… do me a favour and sign the bottom of that, will ya?" he asked, as he handed the sketch back to Emma.

"Why?"

"Because that's how people will know that it's a genuine Swan masterpiece when you become a big-time artist."

"Oh, yeah, because the presence of my son in the image isn't enough to confirm that," she replied, rolling her eyes a little. But Emma still bent her head to scribble her signature in the corner of the page.

"Thanks. I'm keeping that." Killian reached over the little boy sat to his right and snatched the sheet of paper off the table before Emma could protest, triggering more giggles from Henry.

"Hey! What if I don't want you to keep it?"

"Then I guess you'll have to come and take it from me," he challenged darkly, as he slid the picture carefully between two of the folders in his backpack. When he straightened up again he turned away from Emma's glowering face and directed his full attention to her father instead. "Your turn, Dave. Let's see your masterpiece," he declared gleefully.

"I feel like mines gonna be incredibly underwhelming now," the other man protested, as he held up his own drawing to show the room.

Henry's giggles at his grandfather's oddly proportioned self-portrait could be heard by the nurses at the other end of the ward.

* * *

After their little impromptu drawing session, Henry's energy levels began to dip. Emma turned on the television in the room and allowed Killian to pick a movie, as her son started unwinding from the day's excitement. She was about ten minutes into The Incredibles when her need to use a restroom became impossible to ignore, and she sighed a little as she stood up to stretch out her aching muscles.

"I'm just gonna head to the bathroom, Kid. You'll be okay with Killian and your Grandpa, right?"

Henry nodded his head sleepily and Emma turned to leave, but she stopped when she saw Killian push himself up from the bed. He carefully extracted the arm that had been wrapped around her son's shoulders as he turned to ask, "Can I come down with you? The bathrooms up here are…"

"Small," she offered for him, and he nodded his head in agreement. Emma had learned pretty early into Henry's care that the restrooms on the ward had been designed with the kids in mind. So while they were still useable, they were far from comfortable.

"You'll be back, right?" Henry worried, as his hand shot out to grab onto Killian's arm. He looked more alert at that moment than he had in the thirty minutes before, and Killian cursed himself for moving too soon. The kid would probably have fallen asleep within the hour if he'd stayed put.

"Of course. I'm not gonna leave without saying goodbye," he promised. Henry still didn't look entirely convinced, so Killian reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his keys, before setting them into the young boy's lap. "There, now I _literally_ cannot go anywhere without coming back," he explained. "You have my car and house keys. I'll be homeless without them."

Henry looked down at the offering before tilting his head up to meet his idol's eyes. He must have found what he was looking for behind Killian's gaze as he finally let go of the man's arm.

"I'll be back soon," the footballer promised, reaching out to give the young boy's shoulder a soft squeeze. Killian offered David a nod of solidarity before following Emma from the room.

Henry picked up the keys in his lap and turned each one of them over, lingering a little on the leather key fob they were attached to. He didn't know much about cars, but he was pretty sure that Killian drove a sporty one. The shiny badge looked like the one he'd seen on a convertible in town before he'd fallen sick.

When the young boy finally lifted his head to meet his grandfather's eyes, David was expecting a question about the car that Killian drove. He wasn't expecting the one that Henry voiced.

"Grandpa, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course," David said after a moment. "Why? Do you have one to share with me?"

"Maybe."

David gave Henry a moment to think through whatever it was that was on his mind. He didn't want to rush the lad and have Henry refuse to share his secret with him, but he was more than a little curious about what his grandson might have been hiding.

"Will you help me convince Killian to ask my mum out?" the young boy eventually asked.

* * *

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	17. Chapter 16

"You uh… you want my help with what now?" David asked, still a little stunned by what his grandson had said.

"Convincing Killian to ask my mum out."

"I uh… I'm… Henry, you do know that a man and a woman can just be friends, right? They don't _need_ to date to spend time together," he explained carefully.

"Of course. I'm not stupid," the little boy replied, glaring at his grandfather for daring to even imply that he was.

"Then why do you think we should be meddling in this? Surely if Killian liked your mum, he'd ask her out when he was ready?"

"He won't," Henry protested. "He's too focused on me to realise that he likes her. And mum's _never_ gonna make the first move. So we should do it for them."

"If Killian's not making a move then it's probably because he doesn't see your mum that way," David explained patiently. He'd never tried describing the intricacies of dating to a child before, and now he knew why.

"He does," Henry stated confidently. When his grandfather opened his mouth to protest again, the little boy lifted a hand to begin ticking off his points. "He talks about mum _all the time_ when she's not here. _'I wonder what your mum's doing. Have you heard from your mum yet? Do you think we should send her some flowers? How's Emma?'"_ he parroted back, butchering Killian's accent in the process. Henry lifted another finger as he added, "He also does that teasing thing that Will used to do with Nurse Belle before they started dating. _And_ ," he exaggerated, lifting a final finger, "He looks at mum the same way that you look at Grandma."

"He does?" David was a little shocked by that revelation. He'd watched the easy way that his daughter had interacted with the footballer that evening, but he'd just assumed that it was because Emma wasn't as star-struck as the rest of them were around him. His mind hadn't even made a leap to the possibility of a romance forming between the two of them.

"Yeah, Grandpa. You might need your eyes testing again if you missed that."

David shot his grandson a dirty look as he tried his best to wrap his mind around the idea of Killian Jones dating his daughter. From what he'd seen of the guy so far, David certainly liked him. He just wasn't sure how much he would _continue_ to like him if he knew that Killian was defiling his baby girl every night.

"So… are you gonna help me or not?" Henry demanded, giving his grandfather his best pleading puppy-dog eyes.

"I dunno, Henry. I'm not sure how comfortable I feel with this. I mean… what if your mum doesn't want to date him? Or what if you're wrong? Killian might already have a girlfriend for all we know."

He probably had a different one for every night of the week, given the reputation some of his teammates had. Footballers could be a sleazy bunch, and the more he thought about it, the less he liked the idea of his only daughter dating one of them.

"He doesn't, and I'm not. But if you don't wanna help me that's fine." Henry paused for a moment to watch as David's brow furrowed with his confusion before he delivered his killer blow. "I'll just ask Grandma instead."

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Killian asked, as he pushed the button to take them down to the lobby.

"Much better, thanks. I'm just hoping that my boss will let me make up the hours I missed at work." Emma was already behind on her electricity bill. She couldn't really afford to lose half a week of pay right then.

"If uh… if I can help at all, you'll let me know, right?"

"Thanks, Killian, but I'm not taking a hand-out from you," Emma stated firmly. She'd dealt with everything on her own so far, so she certainly wasn't planning to change that anytime soon.

"You wouldn't have to," he assured her. "It could just be a temporary loan, if you need it. Without the kind of crazy interest rates that the bank charge. Just… just promise that you'll come to me if you need it, Emma. I don't wanna see you guys struggling more because your pride stopped you from reaching out for help."

Emma made the mistake of turning her head to meet his gaze. She could see the genuine sincerity behind Killian's words. That desire he had to help, in whatever way he could. And as a result of that, she found herself nodding her agreement to his promise.

"Good," he declared, offing her a small smile as he did. "So um, has Whale said anything yet about those test results?"

"No, not yet. He said that you guys caused a flood of volunteers to offer samples, so the lab's a little backed-up at the moment. But they're working as fast as they can."

"That's good. Hopefully he'll have some news for us soon." Killian was getting a little edgy now. Every time his phone rang he answered it expecting bad news. He wasn't sure his heart would be able to take it when the time finally came for him to find out his results. Surely he hadn't been brought into Henry's life just to offer the kid false hope of finding a match.

"Yeah, hopefully," Emma replied, but she didn't sound too optimistic about the situation either.

As the elevator doors slid open, Killian gestured for her to step out ahead of him and then followed close behind, watching as she easily navigated the corridors of the hospital. He didn't want to know how many times she'd made that same walk before. He couldn't bear to think about it.

"Henry says that you're going away soon," she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of them.

"Yeah. Champions League group games start soon. Our first one's in Portugal, against Porto. It's not gonna be an easy game, though."

"But you get a trip to Portugal," she teased. "That's gotta be worth the journey?"

"We uh… we don't actually get that much time to see the country," Killian chuckled. "We'll fly out the afternoon before the game and then straight back to Manchester when it's over."

"Isn't that a little unfair? Surely you guys need time to adjust to the climate and stuff before the match, and then some time to rest after it?"

"That's a footballer's life, Love. We have a premier league game at the weekend that we need to be back for, and we play the weekend before the group stages begin too. There isn't time for us to adjust to being in another country, let alone to rest up after the game." Killian shrugged his shoulders almost as if he were attempting to shrug away her concern. But he had to admit that it was touching to see how much Emma already seemed to care for him, even if she still didn't fully understand the sport he played.

"Well, I hope you're not pushing yourself too hard," she said after a moment. "If you need to rest, then rest, Killian. That email I sent wasn't supposed to guilt-trip you into visiting Henry every week. If you're busy with games, stay at home and sleep. We both understand that everyone else has a life away from this hospital… and away from us."

Killian's hand shot out to grip Emma's elbow as he turned her back to face him. He wanted her to see the sincerity behind his words when he spoke next, and he wanted her to know that he was being completely honest with her as he did.

"I'm here because I want to be," he promised. "I'm here because I enjoy spending time with Henry, and with his mother. I'm not here because I think you expect it of me, and I certainly don't think either of you are guilt-tripping me into helping out. I might be busy with work, but if you can manage eight-hour shifts five times a week between spending time with your son and worrying about the future, then I can _certainly_ manage a few afternoons a week with two people I've come to care a great deal for."

Emma's eyes were feeling a little misty again, and she mentally cursed the man for being able to make her cry so much in such a short space of time. She wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve having someone like Killian in her life, but she wasn't planning to let him go any time soon.

Not that Henry would ever let her.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 17

Emma bit down on her bottom lip to stop it from trembling as she ran a soothing hand over her son's back. Belle was sat on the other side of the bed doing the same thing while they watched Henry's small body convulse again, before he spat the contents of his stomach out into the bowl between his legs.

"It hurts," he gasped out, turning wide eyes up to his mother.

"I know, Baby. I know. But it'll be over soon. I promise."

The little boy vomited twice more before all of his energy seemed to leave him, and he sagged in his mother's arms. Belle reached for Emma's hand to give it a gentle squeeze. It was the nurse's way of telling her not to lose hope and to never give up. But for Emma, hope was becoming harder and harder to cling to.

"I wanna sleep now," Henry mumbled.

Belle reached for the bowl on his lap as she stood from the bed while Emma eased her son's body down to the mattress. She immediately began fussing with the sheets while the nurse busied herself with cleaning up. Henry had thrown off his Manchester United fleece when he'd felt the vomiting come on, but now that it had passed, he eagerly snuggled down into its softness as Emma wrapped it around his small frame.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," Belle offered softly, before showing herself out of the room.

"Are you okay, Baby? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Henry's head shook slowly against the pillow as his eyes fluttered closed. Emma pulled her chair up closer to the bed and reached for his hand to hold tightly in her own. The silence in the room felt suffocating, but she didn't want to break it while her son was trying to sleep. So when Henry eventually spoke up, Emma jumped a little in surprise.

"I miss Killian."

"I'm sure he misses you too, Baby. He'll be here on Friday to see you again," Emma promised.

Killian had stopped by Monday evening to see how everyone was doing, but with his midweek Champions League game he'd been kept away from the hospital thanks to the rigorous training he was being put through. The guy had still managed to call the hospital every night and talk to Henry for at least an hour about their days, but it wasn't quite the same as being able to see him, and Emma knew that Henry was missing his friend.

If she were being truly honest with herself, Emma was missing the footballer too. It had been nice having someone around that she could talk to. Someone that wasn't one of her parents and didn't give her that look of sympathy she'd come to expect from them both, every time she saw them. Someone who would happily change the subject when they knew she needed it, without judging her for doing so. And someone who would sit with Henry without asking questions, while she shut herself away for an hour to cry over that helpless feeling that had taken root in the bottom of her stomach, and seemed to be growing more and more with every day that passed.

"Can we send him a message?" Henry whispered. "Just to wish him luck?"

Emma froze for a moment at her son's words. She'd never reached out to Killian before. She'd never wanted to bother him with her troubles, knowing how busy and in-demand he must be. But Emma also knew that she could never refuse her son anything. Especially not on the days where he needed something to help make him smile.

"Let me see if I still have his number," she told Henry, before standing up and heading for the small table by the window.

Emma knew exactly where she'd stashed Killian's number. She'd told herself she'd never use it, unless the worst were to happen, but she still couldn't bring herself to throw it away.

"Okay, Baby, what do you wanna tell him?" she asked, as she dropped back down into her seat with the small scrap of paper in one hand and her phone in the other. But when Emma lifted her head to meet her son's eyes she found Henry's closed as his breathing evened out with sleep.

Emma hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking back and forth between the number in her hand and the sleeping boy on the bed, before she finally made her decision.

* * *

As soon as their flight landed in Porto, Killian reached for his phone. It was stupid really, Emma never reached out to him when he wasn't at the hospital, so it wasn't like he was expecting an update from her on Henry's condition. But having his phone off for so long, while someone he cared for was in such a vulnerable position, felt wrong.

As he made his way over to the coach that was waiting just outside of the airport, Killian flicked through the messages that he'd received while he'd been in the air. The ones from his mother and brother he'd expected. They always worried whenever he travelled, so he stopped to quickly snap a picture of himself standing in front of the plane to send their way before he thumbed through the others. Most of them could wait until he made it to his hotel room, but there was one message in particular, from an unknown number, that caught his attention.

 _We just wanted to take a moment to wish you luck for tomorrow._

 _Henry's had a rough couple of days so he's really looking forward to seeing you play._

 _We miss you._

The message wasn't signed but it didn't need to be. There was only one Henry in his life, and Killian hated that he wasn't able to be by his side while the little boy was suffering.

He took a moment to save Emma's number to his phone before he clicked back through to her message thread and tapped out his reply.

 **We just landed here in Porto.**

 **It's much warmer than Manchester was.**

 **We're on our way back to the hotel now to freshen up before the press conference.**

 **How's Henry doing?**

 **Is there anything I can send you guys to help?**

 **Food?**

 **Drinks?**

 **Comic books?**

 **My mam?**

 **I miss you guys too. X**

He hesitated for just a moment before attaching the picture he'd taken of himself at the airport to the message and then hit send. If Henry couldn't experience Porto with him, then Killian would take as many photographs of his time spent there as he possibly could, so that the little boy knew he wasn't being left out.

"Hey, John. Take some pictures of us all for me, will ya?" he asked, as he opened the camera app on his phone and tossed the device down the bus and into his friend's waiting hands. (It was a fairly impressive feat, given that their driver was taking the corners of the road at a speed that Killian was pretty sure was illegal.)

"Why? Is mummy worrying about your safety?" the other guy teased gently.

"They're for Henry. He's having a rough couple of days so I thought they might cheer him up a little."

Killian wasn't sure he'd ever seen so many phones come out at once as the team he'd travelled with began snapping their own pictures of themselves; the scenery; and even their bus driver, ready to send to the little boy they'd all fallen in love with earlier that year.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **Sorry for being MIA for a while. I had to take a step back to work on improving my health and then catch up at work.**


	19. Chapter 18

"Oh for goodness sake, Emma, turn it off," Mary-Margaret whispered harshly, as her daughter's phone buzzed along the table top once more.

She had reluctantly agreed to join the rest of the family that evening to watch Manchester United play their first Champions League group game, and she'd been regretting that decision ever since they'd arrived at the hospital. Henry had been asleep when they'd first entered his room, after another rough day, and Emma had wanted to leave him sleeping until the match began. She knew her son would never forgive her if she didn't wake him in time to see it, but she also knew when Henry needed to rest. And this was certainly one of those occasions. Normally, a sleeping Henry wouldn't bother Mary-Margaret at all, but ever since they'd arrived, Emma's phone had buzzed constantly across the tabletop with some sort of notification. And that annoying little sound was slowly driving her insane.

"I'm not turning it off," Emma hissed back. "They'll stop soon enough."

"Then at least answer the bloody thing so I don't have to keep listening to it."

"They're not for me, they're for Henry," Emma protested. "He can answer them when he wakes up."

Ever since she'd sent that first message to Killian the day before, her phone had gone mad. After refusing his sweet offer of help, she'd expected not to hear from him until later that evening, when he called to speak to Henry. But that hadn't been the case. Her phone had buzzed almost constantly for the first hour as he sent pictures of everything from the bus they'd taken to the training ground, the ground itself, the rest of his team, his bus driver, the staff that he met, and even a few he'd somehow managed to snap from his side of the table during the press conference itself. The sheer volume of people that had been sat opposite him armed with recording devices, their own phones, and notepads had been incredibly intimidating. Emma had no idea how he did that on a regular basis.

Killian had sent so much that afternoon her crappy little phone had died twice on her while she was waiting for Henry to wake up. But the smile on her son's face, the first genuine one she'd seen all day, was more than worth the hassle it had caused.

She'd been a little confused when Killian had called later that evening. After a brief conversation with Henry, that mainly consisted of her son nodding his head eagerly and repeating the word, 'yeah,' the phone had disconnected. But it hadn't been for long. Killian had called back almost immediately and Emma had chuckled when she realised that he'd switched to a video call so that Henry could see him as they spoke. It wasn't quite the same as having Killian come to visit, but it was close enough. And it had been the highlight of her son's day, as everyone on shift that evening had found out.

"What's for me?" Henry mumbled quietly, as he fought against the many blankets holding him down to sit up against the headboard.

Emma reached out to help get him situated a little more comfortably before she passed her phone over to him. "Killian's sent you some more messages."

"He has?" The light seemed to return to Henry's eyes as he looked down at the screen and saw the number of posts that were waiting for him.

Emma sat by his side while he scrolled back through them all. The most recent pictures seemed to be of the training facilities the team had been using that afternoon. But Killian had also included small videos from the Portuguese club's staff, wishing Henry well; some of the hotel he was staying at, and some of the scenery he'd passed during his travels that day. Emma was pretty sure the man was documenting anything and everything he could, and her heart warmed a little more for Killian Jones at that moment.

"What does this say?" Henry asked, as he pulled up another message from his idol.

Emma was a little distracted by the picture he'd attached to it, so she completely forgot to read the writing underneath. It was one of the first messages she'd received that morning, and judging by the state of Killian's hair, it had been sent not long after he'd woken. He'd taken a picture of the view outside of his hotel room's window, with him stood shirtless in the foreground. Emma had been expecting him to be pretty well built, given his choice of profession. But she hadn't been expecting the generous dusting of hair over Killian Jones's chest. Most of the footballers she saw shirtless in the papers were waxed cleaner than she was. But Killian either didn't care for the look or simply didn't bother with such trivial things.

"Mum!"

"Huh?" She pulled her eyes from the screen Henry was holding out to her, and her mind away from her newfound appreciation for chest hair, to look down at her son. "What's up, Kid?"

"What does it say?" Henry pressed.

"Oh… uh, I don't know," she admitted, as she read the message over twice. "I think he sent it in Portuguese."

Henry rolled his eyes as if that had been completely obvious, and Emma took her phone from him with a somewhat dirty look. After highlighting and copying Killian's message, she opened up her internet browser and searched for Google Translate, before pasting the words across.

"What does it say?" Henry asked again, clearly thrilled by the excitement of the puzzle Killian had given them.

"Greetings from Porto! I hope you're feeling better this morning, Kid. Nice view, huh? Next time I'm here, I'll bring you and your mum along to experience it for yourself. Missing you both. K."

"Can we go, Mum? Please, can we go?" Henry asked, bouncing in his bed at the mere thought of a trip to Portugal with his favourite footballer.

Emma wasn't entirely sure that would ever happen. But given how down her son had been for the last few days, she wasn't willing to voice those concerns and ruin his excitement at that moment. " _When_ you're better," she chuckled, as she rearranged the sheets around his lap. "Let's just focus on getting you better first, Kid. Besides, there's no guarantee the team will even make it this far next year, right?"

David and Henry both turned shocked eyes her way, insulted by the accusation that their beloved football team might not make it to the group stages next year, as Mary-Margaret tried to hide her giggles in her knitting. Even she knew that it was highly unlikely the team wouldn't end up qualifying again next season, and she made a point of avoiding as much football-related content as she possibly could.

* * *

While the Swan family spent their evening watching Manchester United put two goals past their rivals to win their first game of the tournament, Doctor Whale was down in his office, checking over the files on his desk for the third time that day.

When the test results had been handed to him three days earlier, he'd made the lab run them again, just to be certain that everything was completely accurate. He'd been searching for a match for Henry Swan for so long now, and the last thing he wanted to do was give the boy's family false hope thanks to a stupid clerical error.

But the results had come back exactly the same way the second time around as they had the first.

Henry Swan had finally found his match.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **I'm afraid I'm still behind on my replies at the moment, but I thought you'd all appreciate the update instead of waiting until I got caught back up again.**


	20. Chapter 19

"Hey, Kid. How are you doing?" Killian asked, as he dropped his bag to the floor just inside of the door, and made his way over to Henry's side. The fact that the little boy wasn't bouncing around in his bed with excitement to see him again didn't settle well with the footballer.

"He's exhausted," Emma supplied on behalf of her son. "The last couple of days have really taken their toll."

Killian flicked his eyes over to her form and the iron band that had wrapped around his heart when he'd first seen Henry squeezed a little tighter. Clearly, the last few days had taken their toll on more than just the little boy in that hospital bed.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here for you both," he offered genuinely, as he reached out a tender hand to brush the hair away from Henry's forehead. It probably needed cutting, but given that Henry looked to be fighting a losing battle with sleep that afternoon, Killian was certain it was the last thing on anyone's mind.

"You played real good," the little boy told him, leaning into his friend's touch. "Even mum was impressed."

"Oh, she was, was she?" Killian's eyes lifted to meet Emma's slightly embarrassed gaze before he turned his attention back down to Henry. "It's all those good luck vibes you guys are sending our way. We can feel them, you know?"

"You can?"

"Yup. Everyone on the team could. So keep sending them our way and we'll keep trying to win for you," he promised, pulling the blankets up a little higher so that they would keep Henry warm when he inevitably drifted back to sleep.

The little boy nodded his agreement but didn't say anything else. He'd tried so hard to stay awake long enough to see his friend that afternoon, and now, he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Killian suggested. "I don't have anything else to do today. I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Okay," Henry mumbled, as his head sunk further into his pillow.

When it looked like his breathing had evened out, Killian finally tore his eyes away from the boy's small form to find Emma's on the other side of her son's bed. Her body was rigid with tension. She looked like she wanted to reach out to Henry, to have some kind of physical connection to him as he rested. And the effort it was taking for her to hold herself back was evident in every harsh line of her body.

"How are you holding up?" Killian asked, drawing her eyes away from her son.

"I'm fine," Emma told him. "I'm not the one currently fighting a deadly disease."

"That doesn't mean that you're not suffering, Emma. It's okay to admit that. I'm not just here for Henry, you know?"

Emma sat in silence for a moment with her gaze locked on her son's face. When she finally pulled her eyes away from him it was to stand up and nod her head at the open doorway. "Do you wanna go and get some coffee? He'll be out of it for a while."

"Sure," Killian agreed, standing up and stretching out his legs. He could sense that she needed someone to talk to, and she would probably feel more comfortable doing so where little ears couldn't pry into their conversation. So while Emma made her way around the bed to head out of the room, Killian reached for a piece of paper that Henry hadn't yet doodled all over to leave a note for the little lad, just in case he happened to wake while they were gone.

Emma was silent as the two of them made their way through the hospital corridors and down to the small coffee shop they'd visited before. Killian thought it best not to push her to talk until they were sat down somewhere, so he allowed her to get lost in her mind for just a few moments longer.

She finally spoke up when he placed an order for two coffees with the barista, recalling Emma's order perfectly without prompting. But when Killian pulled out some cash to pay for the drinks, she shook her head firmly as she told him, "No way. You paid last time."

"You've probably covered like a dozen coffee runs in the time since I last paid," he argued.

"I don't care. If this friendship thing between us is gonna work, then you need to let me pay every once in a while."

Killian couldn't really argue with that point, so he pushed his cash back into his pocket and held his hands up in defeat, as their barista tried to hide her chuckles in her apron.

When they were finally sat at a small table, and a few sips had been taken from each of their drinks, Emma fell silent once again. Killian wasn't sure how long he was supposed to give her, so he waited, hoping that she would break before his patience did.

"It's hard," she eventually whispered. "I just… I'm his mother. I'm supposed to help him. To protect him. And I'm not. I'm failing him."

"You are _not_ failing him," Killian declared fiercely, because there was absolutely no way he was going to sit and listen to Emma convince herself that she was a failure for what had happened to Henry. "You are doing _everything_ you can to help your son, Emma. And if there was more you could physically do to help him, there isn't a doubt in my mind that you'd have already done that by now. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Henry wouldn't, and he certainly wouldn't want you doing it either."

"It feels like I should be doing more," she admitted.

Killian reached across the table to cover the hand that wasn't wrapped around her coffee cup with his own as he squeezed it tightly. "What more can you do, Emma? If you can give me an answer to that question, I will _gladly_ spend as much time and money on making it happen for you as is necessary. But I suspect that you already know that you're doing all you can."

"I could find his father," she mumbled towards the tabletop.

"Yes… I suppose you could. But why don't we wait and see how these results come back first?" Killian suggested calmly. He wasn't sure why he didn't like the idea of Emma contacting her ex, all he knew was that the mere thought of that man anywhere near the Swan family had a rage burning through his veins like none he'd ever felt before. The only reasonable explanation that came to mind was that he didn't want an ex-con anywhere _near_ Henry while he was so vulnerable. But Killian knew he had no right to make that demand of Emma. "If we don't find a match soon, then I'll do whatever it takes to track him down for you, okay?"

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed. Emma squeezed Killian's fingers gently with her own before she pulled her hand free from his. "We uh… we should get back upstairs before Henry wakes."

"Of course," he said, standing from his seat. "I can walk and drink."

"Are you sure about that?" she teased, as a genuine glint of mischief sparked behind her eyes. "I hear that men aren't so good at the multitasking thing."

"Hey! I run and kick a ball regularly," Killian protested. "That's multitasking at its finest."

* * *

Killian didn't spend long at the hospital that afternoon. He'd cancelled dinner plans with his mother and brother, expecting Henry to want him to stay. But when it was clear that the kid needed his rest much more than he needed his friend's company, Killian decided that it was time for him to head home.

"You'll be back soon, right?" Henry worried, as he reached out to grab onto the footballer's sleeve.

"Of course. I'll stop by tomorrow when I finish training and see how you're doing," Killian promised. He would stop by every day for the rest of the year if it made Henry happy. The wear-and-tear on his car and the obscenely high parking charges for an hour a day meant nothing to him when compared to the smile that warmed the little boy's face at his promise.

"Okay," Henry agreed, relaxing his fingers to let go of the fabric bunched between them.

Killian gave him another small smile before he leaned down to brush his lips over the top of Henry's head. It was only when he reached for his bag on the floor that he remembered what he'd tucked inside of it before he'd left his house that morning.

"I uh… I bought you guys a couple of things back from Portugal," he told Emma, as he pulled a plain, white, plastic bag from inside of it. "It's nothing special. I didn't exactly have time to explore and shop while I was there. I just thought they might put a smile on your faces," he explained, sitting the bag down onto the table at the bottom of Henry's bed.

"Thank you, Killian. That's really kind of you."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, so Killian simply nodded his head once before swinging his bag up and over his shoulder. When he turned back around to say a final goodbye to Emma, he was surprised to find her standing much closer than she had been before.

For a long minute, he stood and watched in silence as she seemed to contemplate whatever it was that was on her mind. Killian spotted the exact moment that Emma decided what to do, as a look of determination settled over her face and he braced himself for what she might say next. But instead of talking, she took another small step forward and wrapped her arms loosely around his waist.

"Thank you," she whispered again, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"It's nothing special, Emma. They cost less than my dinner tonight will."

"I wasn't talking about the gifts."

Killian stood awkwardly for another long moment before he brought his own arms up to encircle her shoulders, holding her to him as he whispered back, "It's what I'm here for."

When the two of them finally parted he offered her another slightly shy smile before hefting his bag up a little higher. "You'll uh… you'll call me if you need anything, right?" he asked. At Emma's nod of agreement, Killian took one final look at Henry's sleeping form before he forced himself to leave the room.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	21. Chapter 20

"Good evening, Swans," Doctor Whale greeted, as he swept into Henry's room a few days later.

He'd deliberately waited until their usual famous visitor had left before making his entrance, as Whale didn't want to put Emma into an awkward position where she was forced to share more information with the guy than she was comfortable with. But after watching the three of them interact from the nurses' station, he'd begun to wonder if maybe he'd been a little overly-cautious.

"How are you feeling today, Henry?" he asked, reaching for the notes at the end of the bed.

Henry shared a brief look with his mother before he turned back to Doctor Whale and offered the man a soft nod. "Better," he told him.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. Have those new anti-sickness meds helped at all?"

"A little," Emma supplied, because her son looked like he didn't know how to answer the question himself. "I think they've taken the edge off, haven't they, Kid?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's something at least. Fingers crossed that means we're on to some kind of winning combination now," Whale explained, as he quickly skimmed through the nurses' observations from that day. When he was finished, he placed Henry's notes back into their cradle, but instead of leaving the room as Emma had expected, he took a seat in one of the free chairs beside Henry's bed.

"There's something I need to speak with you both about tonight," he began carefully, and Emma's heart sank. In her experience, conversations after dinner with her son's doctor never resulted in good news. "As you know, your viral campaign to find Henry a donor caused a bit of a backlog in our lab. The technicians down there have never had so many specimens to handle before, and they didn't want to rush anything in case they made a mistake."

 _This was it_ , Emma thought, as her mind slowly began shutting itself down so it wouldn't have to hear what was coming. This was the moment where her son's doctor was going to tell her that it had all been for nothing!

"A few days ago I was notified of a potential match for Henry…"

"I'm sorry, what now?" she interrupted, because Emma knew she couldn't possibly have heard that correctly.

"I had the labs run the test a couple of times just to be sure, but on paper, we've found Henry a match."

Emma knew tears were streaming down her face at that moment, but she didn't care. The odds of finding someone outside of the family as a match for Henry had been slim, so she'd never truly thought this moment would come.

"Now, as you know, there's no guarantee that the transplant will be successful. But I managed to get in touch with the donor this afternoon, and he's more than happy to take those chances and go ahead with the harvest."

Emma had to choke down the sob building in the back of her throat at Whale's words. She knew all too well that this wasn't a guaranteed cure for her son. After all, on paper, she'd seemed like the perfect match herself. And Henry's body had still rejected her donation. But with every day that passed, her son seemed to grow a little weaker, so she'd take dozens of failed donations if it meant finally finding the one that would work for Henry.

"The donor has asked for a few days' notice, just to arrange some time off work for the procedure, but he's eager to get this done as soon as we possibly can. So that means we need to start preparing Henry's body to receive the donation. And unfortunately, that means we need to start him on…"

"A high dose of chemotherapy," Emma sighed. It was the one biggest down point to the transplant procedure. The amount needed to prepare Henry to receive the donation was tough on his body. The hair he'd only just started growing back from their last attempt would likely fall out again. The sickness and nausea would be worse than ever before. And her little boy would probably spend most of his time sleeping through the pain it caused his body.

But it would all be worth every agonising moment if this transplant was deemed a success.

"We'll give you a few more days just to get past this last bout of sickness while I wait to hear back from your donor," Doctor Whale explained. "And then, when we have some dates to work with, we'll talk more about when to start the chemotherapy. But before that happens, we need to run through some routine tests again. If it's okay with you, I'd like to go ahead and start scheduling those for tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Henry agreed. He didn't look terribly happy about the idea of going through all of that again, but if it saved his life, he knew it would be worth the discomfort that came from the conditioning treatment. "Who's my donor?" he finally asked, as he looked between his mum and the doctor in the room for some answers.

"I can't disclose that, I'm afraid. Not unless he wants to tell you himself," Doctor Whale replied. "I'm sorry, Kid."

"'S okay," Henry mumbled. He was a little disappointed that he might never know the answer to that question, but his mum had explained doctor-patient confidentially to him before. So he knew why Doctor Whale couldn't give him a name. "I just wanted to thank him, that's all."

"I'll let him know that you do," Whale assured the lad, as he pushed himself back to his feet. "But I can't promise anything, Henry. Some people prefer to remain anonymous in these situations. Now… I have to go and check on Lilly down the hall. If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to ask one of the nurses to come and get me."

"Thank you, Doctor Whale," Emma called out, as she rose to her own feet. "Thank you."

"Enjoy what's left of your day, Miss. Swan."

Emma just had enough composure to hold herself together long enough for Whale to leave the room before she pulled her son into her arms and began sobbing into his hair.

"Mum! You're being really embarrassing," Henry mumbled, as he squirmed a little in her hold.

* * *

Moira flicked an annoyed glare down the table at both of her sons as the sound of one of their annoying ringtones cut through the clank of cutlery against china plates.

"Seriously? Do you boys really need to be told no phones at the table at your ages?"

Liam's head shot up as he mumbled, "It's not mine," around a mouthful of his mother's lasagne, and Moria sent him another dirty look as she muttered "Manners," in his direction.

Killian fidgeted in his seat until he could reach into his pocket to pull out his ringing, vibrating device. But all of his intentions to ignore the call and silence his phone disappeared when he saw who was trying to reach him.

"Sorry, Ma," he apologised, before answering his phone and asking, "Henry? Is everything okay?"

He was aware that all eyes around the table were on him, so Killian set his fork down as gently as he could and removed the napkin from his lap before he stood from his chair and made his way out of the room.

"It's uh… it's Emma. Not Henry."

"Of course it is. Sorry. I just uh… I just assumed," Killian rambled, as his brain tried to desperately process all of the reasons why she'd be calling him that late into the evening. "Is everything okay? Is Henry…?"

"He's fine," Emma rushed to assure him. "When I left him, he was already fast asleep. He'll be out of it until the morning now."

Killian's entire body relaxed at her words. He hadn't realised just how tightly his muscles had been clenched, waiting for her to deliver bad news, until they no longer ached from the effort of holding himself in place. "That's good. That's really good," he repeated, more for himself than for her benefit.

"I'm sorry to call so late. I just um… I wanted to let you know that Doctor Whale came to see us after you left," she said, and Killian found his body tensing again to prepare himself for what she was about to say. "They've found a match for Henry."

At her quiet admission, all of the energy in his body seemed to drain away as it made room for the relief that was seeping into his bones. Killian dropped down to perch on one of the steps in his mother's hallway as he allowed her words, and the implication behind them, to truly sink in.

"Obviously, there's no guarantee the transplant will be a success. But Doctor Whale's hopeful that Henry's body won't reject this one," she explained.

"That's wonderful news, Emma. Did he uh… did he say how soon they could go ahead with it?"

"Henry will need a strong dose of chemotherapy before they do. But they can harvest the stem cells slightly in advance of that. The donor has asked for a few days to arrange cover with work before he comes in for the procedure anyway."

"Of course," Killian agreed. "That's perfectly understandable."

There was a moment of silence on the line that felt painfully awkward given the good news that Emma had just shared. One last question remained on the tip of Killian's tongue, and he felt like she knew exactly what that was. But he wasn't sure if, or even how, he should go about phrasing it.

The decision was eventually taken out of his hands when Emma said, "I um… I should let you get back to your night."

"Yeah. My Mam's gonna come looking for me soon," he chuckled, hoping that it would help to break through the tension that still blanketed the line. "Thanks for calling, Emma."

"You deserved to know," she told him, and once again, the line felt heavy with all of the words that were left unspoken between them both. "I'll um… I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," he assured her. Because even though they'd found a donor for Henry, Killian wasn't planning to leave the family alone with their struggles unless they sent him away. "I'll bring doughnuts with me to celebrate. Hopefully Henry will feel up to eating one."

"Thanks, Killian. Have a good night."

"You too," he returned, just before the call was disconnected.

* * *

Killian couldn't bring himself to move for the longest time, so it really wasn't a huge surprise when his mother eventually came looking for him.

"Your dinner's gone cold," she announced, as she poked her head around the doorway.

"I can reheat it," he mumbled back, his gaze still fully focused on the phone in his hands, and the picture he'd set as his wallpaper. It had been taken during a better time for Henry when Emma had been out running errands one afternoon. The little boy had climbed into his arms to watch a movie with him, and Killian had taken a series of pictures of the two of them giggling together over something he couldn't even remember now. The image he'd used for his wallpaper was the picture he'd liked best.

"Is Henry okay?" Moira whispered, almost like she was scared of the answer she was going to get.

"Yeah! Yeah, they uh… they found a donor for him," Killian explained, as he finally pushed himself back to his feet. His mother waited until he was only a few steps away from her before she reached out to deliver a series of hard slaps to his chest. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"I thought he was dying with how you were acting! Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, Killian Jones."

"Sorry, Ma. I just… it's a lot to take in, you know?" he offered sheepishly.

"I do. But you should be happy about this, Killian. This is a cure for Henry. Hopefully," Moira added reluctantly, because she'd been doing her own research on the procedure, and rejection was still a possibility. She'd been praying every single night that not only would a donor be found, but that Henry's body would accept the transplant when he eventually got it. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would do to Emma to finally find someone compatible with her son, only for his body to reject the stem cells after he'd received them.

"Come on," she eventually encouraged, "Let's go and get you fed."

"Thanks, Ma."

While Moira busied herself with reheating Killian's food for him, he took his seat around the table and poured himself another drink to keep his mind from wandering.

"What's going on?" Liam asked, looking up from where he'd been busy tapping away at the screen of his phone.

"They've found a match for Henry."

"So, why don't you sound happy about that?"

"Oh, I am. Trust me, after seeing him at his worst this week, I'm definitely happy about this. I just…"

"Just what?" Liam prompted, when it looked like his brother had no intentions of ever finishing his sentence.

Moira made her way back into the room at that moment with a plate full of steaming lasagne and fresh salad in hand. She gently set everything down in front of her youngest before she took her own seat at the head of the table to wait for Killian to finish.

"You're gonna think I'm being stupid. Or selfish. Or both," he replied, as he busied himself with cutting up his meal. "I just… I kinda wish it had been me, you know? I wanted to help Henry _so_ badly that I felt like maybe it would be."

"That's not stupid or selfish," his mother reassured him, and Liam nodded his agreement. "I think it's only natural to wish it had been you, given how much you love the boy. I'm sure Emma feels the same way. But you _have_ helped, Killian. Without you bringing awareness to this cause, I doubt the donor would have come forward for testing in the first place."

"I can guarantee you that he wouldn't have," Liam threw in, and Killian raised a brow at his older brother in question.

"You don't know that. You _can't_ know that."

"I can," Liam argued. "I hadn't even thought about stem cell donation until you mentioned the kid. There's no way I'd have gone in and gotten tested without you bringing this to my attention, Killian."

Moira had gone deadly silent and still at the head of the table, but Killian didn't seem to notice as he continued cutting into his meal and shovelling large forkfuls in his mouth.

"I didn't know you'd gone for testing," he eventually mumbled, after swallowing down another large bite.

"How could I not, when I knew how much Henry meant to you? To _both_ of you?"

Killian raised his eyes to meet his brother's gaze and something there finally seemed to click into place with him. He swallowed hard around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat before whispering, "It's you. You're Henry's donor!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **I'm still a little behind on review replies, but now that I'm back on schedule, I hope to get caught up this week.**


	22. Chapter 21

"What if he's not coming?"

"Killian has a game tomorrow," Emma soothed. "I'm sure he's just busy with training. He promised me he'd be here today. I don't think he's gonna break that promise, Baby."

Henry relaxed a little at his mother's reassurances, but she knew he wouldn't fully believe her until his hero had walked through the door. Unfortunately, it was over an hour later when Emma finally heard Killian's voice drifting down the corridor. Judging by the way that Henry perked up in his bed, her son had heard it too, and she smiled indulgently as he did. This was the best day he'd had in well over a week, and she wasn't going to do anything to ruin the happiness that was radiating from her son.

A soft knock on the door announced Killian's arrival and it was quickly followed by a large box of doughnuts before the man himself made his way into the room.

"I have a special delivery for a very special little boy," he declared, setting the box down onto the table. He let his bag fall from his shoulder down to the floor by his usual seat, and then claimed a small spot at the end of the hospital bed.

Henry only waited long enough for Killian's backside to hit the blankets before he threw himself into the man's arms. "Ooof. Well, that's the best welcome I've ever had," he chuckled. "Do you see this, Liam? This is how I wanna be greeted every time I walk into a room from now on."

Henry lifted his head to follow Killian's gaze. Emma was a little ashamed to admit that she hadn't noticed the other man who was leaning against the doorframe of her son's hospital room. Just like Henry, she'd been far too distracted by Killian's presence to realise that he'd brought a guest with him.

"In your dreams," the stranger threw back at Killian, before lifting his eyes to offer Emma a soft, "Hey."

"Hi."

"Emma, Henry, this is my big brother, Liam," Killian introduced. "Liam, I'd like you to meet the Swan family."

Henry sat back on his heels as his gaze moved up and down Liam's form. The other man seemed to sense that he was being appraised at that moment as a brief hint of fear flashed behind his eyes, but he remained still until Henry had finished looking him over.

"You don't look much like Killian," the young boy eventually declared.

"That's because my brother doesn't know what a gym is."

Henry snorted out a laugh as Liam reached out to slap Killian around the head. "Hey! I do too. He's the guy that served me lunch at Nando's today," he argued.

"The fact that you ate lunch today at Nando's just proves my point."

"What's wrong with Nando's?" Liam asked, and Emma got the impression that the two Jones brothers had probably forgotten where they were, and who they were with. "We don't all earn hundreds of thousands of pounds a week, you know. For some of us, Nando's is a wonderful treat."

Emma choked a little on her bottle of Cola at Liam's words. It seemed to shatter the brotherly banter in the room as they both turned startled eyes her way at the strange noises she was making.

"Are you okay, Swan?"

"Fine. I'm fine," she assured Killian.

He didn't look like he fully believed her, but that was probably because she was still spluttering our coughs and her face had gone bright red. Thankfully, her son was there to step in and change the subject away from his mother, as usual.

"Do you like football too?" he asked Liam, looking up at the man with wide eyes.

"God, no," Liam replied honestly, and Henry's face fell a little. "But I uh… Killian told me that you liked comic books. And uh… I like the movie and tv adaptations of those." He reached into the bag that was resting across his shoulder and pulled out something Emma couldn't quite see before handing it over to Henry. "I'm more of a DC fan," he confessed, "So I thought maybe I could bring you your first Batman Comic."

"Wow, this is so cool," Henry exclaimed, turning it over in his hands. Unlike the ones that Killian had brought for her son, this one resembled more of the traditional comic styles that Emma had seen before. It was a slim paper book tucked inside a sealed plastic sleeve, with a sheet of plain white cardboard behind it.

"If you like it, Killian knows where to find more."

"Thanks, Liam." Henry turned his megawatt smile in the direction of the eldest Jones brother, and Emma watched him melt a little at the sight of it. She was oddly relieved to note that it wasn't just her who reacted that way to Henry's smiles.

A silence settled over the room as Henry carefully opened the bag to slide the book out of it and flick through the illustrations, but it wasn't as comfortable as the ones Emma had gotten used to sharing with Killian. After a few tense moments, it became obvious that he was trying to find the words to say something, and her heart lurched at what that something could be.

"So um… there's actually a good reason why I brought my brother here with me today," Killian began carefully, as his eyes flicked over to the other man in the room. Liam gave him a slight nod to continue and this time, Killian's eyes found Emma's as he confessed, "Liam's the one who's going to donate the stem cells for Henry's transplant."

Emma's face dropped with her surprise and for a moment, Killian was worried that he shouldn't have brought his brother with him; that he probably shouldn't have said anything at all. But as usual, it was Henry who broke the awkward silence in the room and drew everyone's attention back to him. "Wow, that's so cool," he declared, setting the comic down in his lap. "'Cus then I'll have a part of you _and_ Killian inside of me. I wonder if it'll make me a better footballer?" he added, absentmindedly.

"Not likely," Killian scoffed. "You should see this one try to dribble a ball."

"Hey! Not all of us were born with athletic ability. Someone in the family had to inherit some kind of smart gene," Liam teased. "Lord knows you didn't."

"I am plenty smart enough."

"He once set fire to a microwave," Liam explained, leaning a little closer to Henry like he was sharing some kind of big family secret.

"I didn't set fire to a microwave. I set fire to the carton _inside_ the microwave. There's a big difference." Henry giggled at Killian's defence and his friend shot him a cheeky wink. "How was I supposed to know that the custard carton contained metal?"

* * *

It was around an hour into his visit when Killian noticed Henry's eyes drifting over to the box of doughnuts on the table. They never remained there long, but the way they wandered back whenever someone wasn't looking at him hinted that the little boy was ready to dive into them, even if he wasn't ready to voice that desire.

"Okay, I think we need some drinks before we get started on these doughnuts," Killian declared, as he pushed himself up to his feet and stretched out his long body. "Hot chocolate, Kid?"

"Please," Henry agreed enthusiastically, while his gaze drifted back over to the box again. Killian had a feeling that at least two of the pastries would be gone before he got back. There was no way Liam would stop Henry from diving into them. He was a bigger soft touch than their mother was.

"I'll have a caramel cortado with almond milk," Liam told his brother.

"No you won't," Killian scoffed. "You'll have a cappuccino and be happy about it. What the hell kind of drinks order _is_ that?"

"It's made with espresso and it…"

"It was a rhetorical question, Liam. I can't even remember what you asked for. I'm just gonna get you a coffee, like every other normal person in the world drinks." Killian shook his head at his brother and shot Henry another sly wink before he turned to Emma. "Do you wanna give me a hand with all of this, Swan?"

"I guess," she sighed, pushing herself out of her chair. "I mean, who else is gonna remember Liam's caramel cortado with almond milk if I don't?" She chuckled a little at the look of betrayal that coloured Killian's features as she made her way over to Henry's side to brush her lips lightly over her son's forehead. "Be good for Liam while we're gone," she instructed

"I always am!" Henry sounded a little outraged that his mother thought he could be anything else, but Liam quickly distracted the little boy with questions about his new Batman comic book, leaving Emma and Killian to slip out of the room without being noticed.

The two of them made their way down the halls of the unit in companionable silence, throwing small smiles at the nurses who called out a hello to them along the way. Emma was surprised to see just how many of them were now familiar with the footballer's presence in the hospital. It seemed like she and Henry weren't the only ones who were getting used to having him around.

"Your brother's a lot like you," she said suddenly, as they pushed through the heavy double doors on their way out of the ward.

"You take that back."

"That's not an insult, Killian. You're both great guys. Really sweet and generous towards people you don't know all that well. There aren't many people who would do the same thing in your positions. I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you… thank _both_ of you, for all of this."

"You don't need to thank us, Emma. We're not doing this for glory or to hold it over your head. We're doing it because we care, and because it's the right thing to do."

"Liam doesn't even know us," she chuckled bitterly, as Killian reached out to call the elevator down to them.

"No… but I do. And Liam knows that. He knows how much you guys mean to me. That's why he got himself tested."

Emma remained silent as the two of them boarded the elevator. When she thought back on the conversations that they'd shared since Killian had become a regular part of their lives, she was a little surprised to note just how much of herself she'd shared with the footballer. He might not know all of her deepest, darkest secrets, but he knew her better than some of the people who had been in her life for years.

"You uh… you probably know more about me than I do about you," she eventually said, as it began to dawn on her just how little time she'd taken to get to know Killian.

"Well, there's a fairly simple way to change that." He wiggled his brows suggestively at her and smiled in satisfaction when she giggled at the action. "You can ask me anything, Emma."

"Okay… how did you get into football?"

"Wow. Diving right in with the long stories, huh? I thought you'd ask me my favourite colour first."

"If it's not red, you might be playing for the wrong team," she deadpanned.

Killian snorted out a laugh at her words just as the elevator rocked to a stop. "You're right. I am contractually obliged to love the colour," he teased, as he gestured for her to step out ahead of him. He waited until they were both strolling side by side down the hall once more before he added more seriously, "I started playing football in school, just after my father died. He wasn't the best father in the world, my mam will tell you that. But his death left this gaping hole in my heart and at the time, my young mind thought it could fill that space with something else. Football signups came out the next week and I was the first to put my name down. I've been playing ever since."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Emma offered softly. She hadn't meant to hit such a personal subject with her first question, and now she felt slightly bad for asking it. "I'm sure your father would be very proud of you, Killian."

"Thanks. But I don't think he would," the footballer replied with a shrug. "I remember when I was scouted for United, there was this voice in the back of my mind telling me that football wasn't a real career and that I should do something more worthwhile with my time. Something more impactful. I don't remember what he sounded like now, but I'm pretty certain it's _his_ voice I hear."

Emma wasn't sure if Killian had been aware of his slight slip there, but she'd certainly caught it. This wasn't something he used to struggle with, it was one of the demons he still battled, even though he'd become wildly successful in his chosen profession. And if there was one thing Emma knew well, it was the way those nagging doubts could eat away at a person if they were left to fester for long enough.

"That voice is wrong, you know? You're clearly doing well for yourself. You have a great relationship with your family and… well… you've had the biggest impact on Henry's life. And I don't just mean because your brother has agreed to be his donor. I mean… my son hasn't been this happy in _months,_ Killian. Every morning he wakes up excited to see you again. He's doing more in his spare time when he's feeling good, because he knows he can tell you all about it when he speaks to you again. You… you've given me back a part of my son that was lost when his diagnosis came through. And with your brother's help, I might get all of him back again. You've made a bigger impact on our lives than any of us could ever have imagined, and that's all because of your job. So don't listen to that voice, Killian - Because it's wrong."

Killian was grateful that they'd arrived at Costa when Emma finished speaking, because it gave him a good excuse to turn his back on her at that moment and wipe away the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. "Thank you, Emma," he eventually offered, giving her a small smile that was a little tight as he tried hard to carefully control his emotions.

She didn't say anything else as they joined the back of the small queue, but Emma did reach forward to squeeze his hand gently with her own. And when she didn't immediately let go of it, Killian carefully manoeuvred his fingers in her grip until they were both clinging to each other's hands tightly.

* * *

 **So, as you've probably noticed, these chapters are now getting slightly longer as we get more involved in the story. (And they're going to continue to grow). To be honest with you all, it's getting tougher for me to get them edited and posted (along with everything else) every single week. So I might have to drop this story back to updating every other week, if that's okay with you guys? Sorry.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	23. Chapter 22

"Okay, short sharp scratch coming up," Belle warned gently, and Henry tightened his hold on Killian's hand.

It wasn't the first time he'd had blood drawn, but he still didn't enjoy the process. At least Belle always seemed to be able to find a vein on her first try. Some of the nurses he'd had before struggled with that, and Henry would come away from a simple blood test looking like someone had attacked his arms.

"How many today?" he asked, as he watched Killian's much larger fingers stroke softly over the back of his hand to try and keep him calm.

"Only the two today," Belle replied. "We're being good to ya."

"Only 'cause you've been running all those other tests," he grumbled, and both of the adults in the room snorted out a laugh. Henry might have been young, but he certainly wasn't stupid.

"I know they're no fun," she soothed, effortlessly pulling the first full vial free to attach the second. "But, if all of this goes well, you'll be out of here in time for Christmas. Surely that's worth all of this poking and prodding?"

"I suppose so."

Belle chuckled again at the pout the little boy was giving to his footballing hero and the way that Killian Jones's entire body seemed to melt with it. She had a feeling that whatever the kid put on his Christmas list that year, Killian would find a way to get for him. Henry and Emma might not have realised just how much the guy seemed cared for them, but it certainly hadn't gone unnoticed by the medical staff.

"Okay, we're all done now," she announced, as she pulled the last vial free and reached up to release the tourniquet. One the strap was back in the tray with the rest of her supplies, Belle placed a small piece of cotton wool over the inject site and then pulled the needle free. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I guess not," Henry agreed.

"What happens now?" Killian threw in. He'd been oddly quiet as he'd watched her draw Henry's blood that afternoon, so Belle really should have been expecting a question to come from him eventually. He'd taken such a genuine interest in Henry case that she often overheard the questions he would ask of Doctor Whale, whenever he slipped out of the room and happened to cross paths with the other man.

"These go down to our lab to be screened for signs of infection and so that we can check Henry's blood cell levels. The sample we took last week showed that Henry had been fighting off an infection, so now that he's finished his course of antibiotics we want to see if that's cleared. Then we can go ahead with harvesting the stem cells from your brother," she explained.

Killian nodded his head to show his understanding. Emma had told him about the slight infection when she'd found out about it. Apparently, it was common for kids like Henry to catch anything and everything that happened to be going around, thanks to his weakened immune system. She hadn't sounded too concerned so he'd told himself not to be either. But that was certainly easier said than done, given all that he knew. He'd probably spent far too much time Googling Henry's condition since the day that Liam had announced he was Henry's donor. But Killian had wanted to prepare himself for every possible outcome.

"Are there any more tests to do?" he finally asked.

"No. Doctor Whale had those all scheduled right after he got the confirmation that your brother was okay to go ahead with the procedure. All we're waiting on now is for this infection to clear up so that we can start the conditioning treatment."

Henry paled a little further at the mention of what was to come and Killian squeezed his hand gently to offer him some comfort. "Can I be here for that?" he wondered.

The little boy's head shot up in surprise as he attempted to catch Killian's gaze. He hadn't thought the footballer would want to see him that way. He knew it was tough for his mum to go through all of that. She hated feeling helpless when it came to his treatment, and chemotherapy always made Henry feel worse. His grandmother had cried the first time she'd been present for one of Henry's bad days after an infusion, and she hadn't been back for one since then. So he was shocked to hear that Killian wanted to be a part of that side of his treatment.

"Technically, no," Belle sighed. She dropped down into the free chair beside Henry's bed as she pulled a pen from her breast pocket and began labelling the blood samples she had collected. "However, we do allow both parents to stay and offer some comfort to their child during that time, so if it's okay with Emma, I can always have a word with Doctor Whale and see what he says about it. It's not like they'd be too many of you in the room."

"It's not fun," Henry offered up dejectedly. "You probably won't wanna be here for it. Nobody ever does."

"Hey, if this is something you've gotta go through then this is something I want to go through with you," Killian assured him. "As long as your mam doesn't mind me being here, I'll be around for the good _and_ the bad."

Henry leaned forward and Killian opened his arms just in time to wrap them around the small boy as he offered his idol a fierce hug. Belle took that as her cue to leave and after offering the man a small smile that she hoped communicated he was doing the right thing, she stood from her seat and headed back to the nurse's station to finish labelling her samples.

"Will you still come and visit when I'm not in the hospital?" Henry mumbled into Killian's chest.

"Of course. You could even come and visit _me_! I have a spare room we could turn into a Henry room. And a _big_ tv to watch all of the new Marvel movies on."

"Can we decorate it?"

"The tv?" Killian asked, with mock horror. "I dunno, Kid. If we paint the tv red you're not gonna be able to see Spider-Man on it."

Henry giggled in his arms before sitting back to fix Killian with a stern look. "No, silly. I meant my room."

"Oh… that makes much more sense," Killian agreed. "And I _guess_ we can paint your room. Just don't tell my mam. She was the one who painted the house before I moved into it. She might get a little jealous."

Henry giggled again as his friend reached out to ruffle the short, spiky hair on top of his head. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence inside the small room as Henry chewed on his lip while he contemplated asking his next question. "Can my mum come too?" he eventually asked.

"To my house?" Killian clarified. He was a little shocked by the question. He'd never really thought he'd get the chance to see Emma Swan inside his home. But now that he was thinking about it, Killian rather liked the mental images that his mind was busy painting for him. "Of course. If your mam wants to come and watch a movie with us she's more than welcome to do so."

"But she can stay too, right? In case I have a bad dream?"

Henry looked so vulnerable at that moment the last thing Killian wanted to do was let him down. But he also knew that having Emma sleeping under his roof could possibly become a little awkward at times. While he would definitely class her as one of his friends, Killian wasn't sure they were close enough yet to pull off a roommate type situation in the way that Henry was suggesting.

And they certainly weren't close enough for the kind of sleeping arrangements his mind was busy trying not to picture.

"Uh… if she wants to," he eventually offered, and even he knew that it didn't sound too convincing. "But uh… your mam… she um… she might wanna use that time to do some other stuff," he explained vaguely. "Like she is now."

Henry watched curiously as Killian reached up to scratch behind his ear while the tips of each one turned bright pink. He wondered what the footballer could possibly be thinking about to make him act so strangely, but he sensed that asking about it probably wouldn't be a good idea. So instead, Henry said, "Okay. I'll tell her when she comes back. She hasn't had a holiday in years."

"I'm not sure a trip to my place would constitute a holiday," Killian chuckled, as he made himself a little more comfortable on the bed and began fiddling with Henry's tablet to load a new movie. "But I do have a swimming pool," he added absentmindedly.

"Really?" The light behind Henry's eyes that had vanished when Belle appeared brandishing a needle was suddenly back again, shining brighter than ever before.

* * *

Things had been going well for Emma ever since Doctor Whale had announced that a donor had been found for Henry. So of course, something had to go spectacularly wrong at some point.

"Stupid… useless… piece of shit," she yelled, as she kicked the front tyre on her car.

Emma knew absolutely nothing about mechanics, so she stood for a moment and frowned down at her vehicle, hoping that some kind of inspiration would come to her. When it didn't, she eventually gave up and decided to climb into the driver's seat to attempt to start her engine once more. She turned the key in the ignition praying that it would start, but the car only spluttered a few times before giving up completely and dying again.

Emma hesitated for a moment before she pulled her phone out of her bag and Googled the number for the AA. She had been a member of the breakdown recovery service a few years back, although, that felt like a lifetime ago now, and she had been forced to cancel her membership when Henry had fallen ill. It was another expense she couldn't really afford at the time, and her parents had always lived close enough to help if she needed it. But at two _am_ on a Wednesday morning, Emma knew that her father would be busy at work and as her mother didn't drive, Mary-Margaret wouldn't be able to pick her up. So she hoped that even without a current membership, the AA would be able to help her.

"Hi, you're talking to Shelly at the AA. How can I help you tonight?"

"Hi," Emma replied. "My uh… my car won't start and I'm stuck at work. I used to be a member of yours but unfortunately had to cancel a few years ago. I was just wondering if there's any way you can help me even if I'm no longer a member?"

"We can definitely do that," Shelly assured her.

"That's excellent news. Thank you. Can I um… can I just check your callout rates for non-members before we do anything else?"

"Of course. It would depend on what kind of recovery you need and if anything can be fixed roadside, but our basic fee for non-members would cost you around two-hundred pounds, depending upon your location and how far you'd need the vehicle towing."

Emma sighed with defeat as she sank back down into her seat. There was no way she could afford those prices. She couldn't even afford a taxi home that evening.

"I'm so sorry for wasting your time but I can't pay that," she told Shelly, hanging up the phone before the other woman could try and talk her into somehow accepting the offer on a payment plan that would stretch her wages even tighter.

As she locked her phone, Emma allowed herself a brief moment to cry through the frustration building inside of her. She hated feeling helpless and ever since Henry had been taken ill, helpless had felt like a permanent state of being for her.

When her tears finally dried almost thirty minutes had passed, and Emma knew she needed to do something if she was going to get any sleep that evening. She could call her father and hope that he wasn't busy responding to a callout of his own - but Emma knew the chances of that would be slim. Manchester was a big city with plenty of crime. David rarely had enough time to stop for a lunch break, let alone time to tow his daughter's car home and then get back to work. Taxis were out of the question, thanks to her precarious financial position, and walking home would take her _hours_. (Assuming she wasn't stabbed or raped along the way).

Which really only left her with one option.

 _Killian Jones._

Emma didn't like the thought of calling him for help so late at night, especially as she knew that he had a game later that day. But she knew that she couldn't spend all evening in the parking lot, waiting for someone to wake up and help her. She needed to get home and sleep so that she could plan how to get to the hospital to see her son later that day. So with slightly trembling fingers, Emma scrolled through her contacts until she came to Killian's name and hit dial on his mobile number.

"Emma?" he croaked out in lieu of a greeting. His voice sounded rougher and his accent deeper through the blanket of sleep that was covering it. "Is Henry…?"

"Henry's okay," she rushed to reassure him, because she should have known that was where his mind would go to first. "I uh… I um… I shouldn't have called," she finally whispered.

"You can call whenever you want," he told her, sounding a little more awake as he did. "Is everything okay?"

"No," she replied honestly. Because while the car breaking down was probably the least of her problems that year, it was just another thing to add to the pile of shit that was already getting her down. And suddenly, Emma couldn't stop her tears from falling again. "It's stupid. It's just… my car won't start. And I'm stuck at work. And it's two _am_ and I can't afford a taxi home so I _really_ can't afford the AA's callout charges for non-members and without my car, I don't know how I'm gonna get to work tomorrow, let alone to the hospital to see Henry and…"

"Hey!" he cut her off sharply, and Emma inhaled deeply to try and stop herself from sobbing over the line. "It's okay, Emma. I can come and pick you up," he assured her. "We can deal with the rest of those problems tomorrow morning when you've had a chance to rest. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered. "Thanks, Killian. And I'm uh… I'm really sorry for calling so late."

"Don't be. This is why I gave you my number. I'm here to help, Emma. So… let me help." Emma didn't say anything else but Killian must have sensed the agreement in her silence as he eventually added, "Where are you now? I'm heading out to my car as I speak."

"Uh… the university. I work at the Alan Gilbert Learning Commons."

"I know where you are. I'll be with you in about half an hour. I don't live in the city so it'll take me a little longer to get to you. But I promise I'm coming. Stay inside if you can, or in your car if you can't."

"I'm in my car," she assured him. "I'll wait here for you."

"I'm on my way now so I'm gonna hang up. The last thing I need is to be pulled over for being on the phone while I'm driving. You'd be surprised how often the police target my teammates for that."

Emma chuckled a little at his attempt to lighten the mood. It wasn't really working, the weight of everything was still pressing down upon her like a double-decker bus, but she was grateful that he cared enough to try. "Thanks, Killian. I uh… I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, Emma. Stay safe and I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, before hanging up the phone to finish sobbing into her arms.

* * *

 **Thanks for sticking with me while I'm struggling with my health. Just so that you guys know what's going on, I'm currently awaiting a date for yet more surgery. So updates won't be as regular as they once were, while I get through this and then the recovery period after it. Sorry guys.**

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	24. Chapter 23

Emma released a huge sigh of relief when the carpark in front of her lit up as a vehicle finally pulled off the road and stopped in a space a few spots down from hers.

It had been twenty-three minutes since she'd ended her call with Killian, and she'd done her best to lay low since then. While there weren't a lot of people on the streets at that time of the morning, the ones who were around didn't look trustworthy. There were drunks so far gone that cars were swerving around them in the middle of the road, or men in dark hoodies eyeing up buildings and fancy cars. Emma didn't normally feel unsafe when she left work in the early hours of the morning, but being stranded there that day had changed her outlook on things.

It was for those reasons that she didn't immediately jump out of her car when the sound of the other vehicle's engine died, and the headlights were switched off. Instead, she squinted into the darkness as she watched the driver's side door swing open and someone step down from the vehicle. Emma's entire body relaxed when Killian stepped under one of the street lamps, his figure lighting up with a warm orange glow. She'd never been so happy to see someone before in her entire life!

Emma quickly stuffed everything important back into her bag and then reached out to press the button on the dashboard that would unlock her car. But before she could grab for the handle, the door was already being pulled open from the outside.

"Are you okay?" Killian worried, as he watched her swing her bag up onto her shoulder while she stepped out of the vehicle. Her eyes were ringed red and puffy, and her mascara had run, showing just how much of a toll the night's events had taken.

"I am now," she told him. "Thank you so much for doing this Kilian. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Emma hated that her eyes were beginning to water again. Surely there was nothing else left inside for her cry out that evening?

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. Killian seemed to hesitate for a brief moment but when one tear finally fell from her left eye, he reached out to envelope her in his arms. "It's okay, Emma. It's all gonna be okay."

The last thing she'd wanted to do that morning was cry all over Killian Jones, but with the way he was holding her tightly and the gentle hand he was running over the back of her head, Emma couldn't seem to stop herself. She wasn't sure how long they stood in that carpark with Killian holding her close and whispering that everything was going to be okay, while Emma soaked his shirt through with her tears. But when they eventually ran dry and she felt confident enough to pull back from his chest, she had to admit that she felt a little better.

She was still battling against the tide of shit that was threatening to drown her, but for a brief moment, Emma felt like she'd found calmer waters.

"Why don't we get you home?" Killian offered, but instead of moving to do just that, his hands came up to cup her cheeks as he used his thumbs to tenderly brush away what was left of her tears.

"Don't you uh… don't you wanna look at the car first?"

"Why would I do that?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious about her reasoning.

"It's what most men do." Emma shrugged her shoulders as she thought back to the last time that she'd had car troubles. It was before Henry had been born, and Neal had popped the bonnet to tell her what he thought was wrong with the engine before having it taken to the nearest garage. Now that she was thinking about it, Emma had no idea if he'd been right about the problems. She'd simply paid the bill when she'd picked up her car three days later.

"I'm a footballer, not a mechanic," he chuckled. "I'll have someone come out and tow it to a garage for you in the morning. That way, we can let the professionals look at it."

"I can uh… I can pay you back for that."

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, as one of his hands settled on her lower back to guide her over to his vehicle. "I have a friend who'll do it for free."

Emma wasn't entirely sure if that was true, but she was far too exhausted to protest. All of her crying that morning had left her completely drained and now all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and sleep.

"I uh… I wasn't expecting this," she mumbled, as Killian pulled open the door on the passenger's side of his car for Emma to climb inside.

He waited until he was sat beside her and pulling on his seatbelt before he gave her an explanation. "I used to own something sleeker and sportier. My first United paycheque I blew on a Lamborghini. But my mam doesn't drive, and she _hated_ it. It was too low for her to climb in and out of. There wasn't enough space for her shopping, or to pick up her friends. She was always worried I was gonna get into an accident and kill myself in it. So after a few years, I traded it in and got this instead. It's much more practical than the Lamborghini was, so she's happier now, but it's still a sportier car than some of the alternatives on the market."

Emma wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion that made her say it, but she found herself blurting out, "You couldn't fit a car seat in a Lamborghini," as she craned her head to look at the space offered in the back of the vehicle.

When she turned back to face him, Killian quirked a brow in question and she hurried to add, "For Henry. He still needs a car seat."

"I hadn't realised that."

Emma could remember thinking that there was probably a good chance the next time she saw Killian Jones's car, he'd have an age-appropriate car seat already fitted in it ready for her son. But before she could even think to protest against the idea, the gentle rocking of the vehicle as they pulled out of the carpark and onto the road quickly lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Something soft passed over Emma's forehead and she reached up to slap away whatever it was. For what felt like the first time in years, she'd finally found peace in her dreams and she wasn't willing to give that up just yet.

"Emma? You need to wake up, Love."

"Don't wanna," she mumbled, attempting to roll over. But something was holding her in place, and it was that _something_ that finally had her bolting awake to escape whatever twisted fate her mind was about to conjure up.

"Hey! It's okay. It's just me. Take it easy."

It took her a moment to realise that Killian was the one who had been talking to her. He leaned in to release her seatbelt, hoping that it would help to calm her down, and when the pressure of it across her chest was gone, Emma finally felt like she could breathe again.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I uh…"

"It's fine. We've all been there. You just looked like you needed some sleep so I didn't wanna wake you until I absolutely had to."

"Yeah. I uh… I haven't been sleeping well," she reluctantly admitted.

"Me either," Killian offered, and Emma knew exactly what he was talking about at that moment. It wasn't just her who had been losing sleep over the fate of her son, and somehow, that knowledge made her feel a little less lonely than she'd been feeling the day before.

"He's uh… this is gonna work, right?" Killian whispered.

"It has to." Emma didn't add that it was the only option they had left, but Killian could hear it in the deafening silence of his car.

"Then it's gonna," he stated confidently, almost as if he could make it happen just by believing in it passionately enough. Emma didn't have the heart to tell him that the world didn't work that way - because lord knows if it did, her little boy would have been cured _months_ ago.

"I um… thank you for the ride home, Killian. I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem," he assured her. "What uh… what sort of time do you leave for the hospital in the morning?"

"Oh…" Emma had completely forgotten about the full implications of her car dying on her until that moment. Being with Killian had helped to soothe some of her fears, but now they were starting to crash back down over her as she realised just how screwed she was. "I um… I usually leave here at around eight-thirty."

"I should be able to come by and pick you up, but I won't be able to stay, I'm afraid. With the game this evening, I'll be spending most of my day at Carrington and then Old Trafford."

"That's fine," Emma assured him. "You don't need to go out of your way for me. I can uh… my dad might be finished with work by then, so he can take me."

"Isn't your dad working a twelve-hour night shift?" Killian countered. "I'll come by and pick you up. And I won't hear an argument against it," he stated firmly. "But before you head inside, do you mind if I take your car keys? Just in case the mechanic needs them for anything."

"Of course not," she agreed, reaching for her bag to pull them out. It took a moment of fiddling for Emma to separate her house key from her car keys, but when she finally got them off the ring, she dropped what was left down into Killian's open palm.

For a moment, the two of them sat in silence just watching each other before the clock on Killian's dash caught Emma's eye. It was gone three _am,_ and he had a long drive back to wherever he lived ahead of him. Which meant that she really needed to get out of his car and into her own home, no matter how much every instinct inside of her told her to stay where she was.

"Thanks again for everything, Killian. You're a great friend."

"You're more than welcome. Sleep well, Emma."

"Yeah, you too," she told him, as she reached for the handle on the door. When she pulled it open a blast of cold air from outside hit her square in the face, and something inside of her seemed to snap into place as she quickly turned back to lean in and press her lips softly to the stubble on his left cheek. Killian looked a little surprised by her action but he didn't pull away, thankfully. Emma was sure that if he had, it would only have made things far more awkward for them both.

"Thanks uh… thanks again," she mumbled, before sliding from her seat and down to the path.

Killian watched from inside his car as Emma made her way down the garden path to unlock her front door, and then slip inside the house. It was only when her outside light finally clicked off that he started his engine once more to head back to Alderly Edge.

* * *

Getting out of bed the next morning was harder than it had ever been before. Emma's dreams had been plagued with fears of all the ways the previous evening could have gone, and at six _am_ she'd finally given up trying and simply showered and dressed for her day. She could only hope that Killian had gotten a better morning of rest in than she had.

The footballer sent her a message at a quarter-to-eight to let Emma know that he was on his way to hers, and she spent the next forty-five minutes in a tense silence, watching the window for any signs of his car. Given that the man was going out of his way to help her again that morning, the last thing she wanted to do was mess him around when he had places that he needed to be.

However, when a car finally rolled to a stop in front of her home at twenty-six-minutes-past-eight, it wasn't the large black SUV he'd been driving the night before. Emma's confusion deepened further when a black BMW pulled up just behind it. She waited until the driver of the first vehicle stepped out of the car and rounded the bonnet before grabbing her bag and jacket to head outside.

"Good morning," Killian greeted, sounding far better rested than Emma felt. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh… not really. But that's nothing new," she added quickly, at the look of concern that covered his features. The sound of another car door opening caught her attention and Emma turned just in time to watch as Liam stepped out of the black BMW and made his way around the car to lean against one of the doors. "What um… what's with the convoy?"

"It was my mam's idea," Killian explained, as he reached up to scratch behind his right ear. "This was given to me when Chevrolet signed on as our main sponsor. I've put less than one-hundred miles on the clock since then. It just sits in my garage, gathering dust. We figured that as it was a freebie and I'm not using it, maybe you could? I briefly spoke with my friend this morning and he thinks it's gonna cost more than your car is worth to fix it, Emma. So at least this way we can save you some money _and_ get you something safer to drive."

Emma looked between the two Jones brothers stood outside of her home as she tried to process everything they were doing for her.

"You're giving me a car?" she whispered, a little dumbstruck.

"Only if you want it." Killian looked like he was worried about how she would react to his offer, and a small part of Emma hated seeing that concern on his face. "I mean… I didn't pay for it. And I'm not using it. I can even have Liam leak a vague story to the press about what I've done with it and the sponsors will be happy. It just seemed like this was the perfect situation for everyone."

Emma bit down hard on her lower lip to try and stop herself from crying all over him again. But the moment Killian stepped forward and folded her into his arms she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"You didn't need to do this," she sobbed into his chest, as she fisted her hands in his Manchester United branded training jacket.

"You need a car to be with Henry," he reasoned. "And I'm gonna be honest with you, Emma – this one is much safer for you than the one you were driving. Chevrolet will even cover all of your expenses. All you need to do is put fuel into it when you run low."

Emma chuckled into his chest at his words because she was pretty sure he was right about how unsafe her old car had been. Her little Ford was older than Henry was, and she was honestly amazed that it had scraped through its MOT at the start of the year. But it got had gotten her to the hospital and back again just fine until last night, so Emma hadn't wanted to attempt to replace it until it was absolutely necessary.

"Thank you, Killian." She pulled back to swipe her hands under her eyes to dry away the tears that had fallen. Killian Jones had probably seen her cry more since he'd come into her life than her parents had.

One of his hands came up to gently cup her cheek as he tilted her head back so that Emma's eyes would meet his own. "You don't need to keep thanking me, Emma. I'm happy to help where I can. And I know that the idea of me buying things for you doesn't settle well with you at the moment, but if it helps you and Henry in _any way_ whatsoever, I'd rather do that than watch you struggle, okay? As long as you're with Henry, making him happy, that's all the repayment I'll ever need."

Emma nodded her understanding before letting him fold her into his arms once again. When he pulled back, he finally seemed to realise that they weren't alone as Killian straightened up a little and turned to include Liam in their conversation.

"I um… I have to get to the training ground. My brother's gonna drop me off there on his way to work this morning. But if it's okay with you, I'll come to the hospital again tomorrow with my mam. She's been begging me to bring her back ever since that first day. And I think she's been baking too."

"That's fine," Emma assured him. "Henry would enjoy seeing her again."

"Okay. Well, send him my love and message me if you need anything. I might not respond straight away, but I'll try and check my phone every couple of hours. And if you need me for anything major, you can call the training ground directly. They know who you are and they know to put your calls straight through to me."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," she told him, but Emma was still touched that he'd gone to the trouble of making emergency arrangements just for her.

"I uh… you can always call me if you can't get hold of him," Liam interjected, as he stepped forward to hand Emma one of his business cards. "And I can haul his arse out of there if need be. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do it."

"Thank you. Both of you. I just… I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you for all of this."

"You don't need to repay us. We're more than happy to help," Killian reaffirmed. "But I should definitely go before the gaffer benches me tonight as a punishment for being late."

"Yeah, don't worry about me being fired for being late or anything," Liam teased, as he made his way back to his car and pulled the door open. "Just worry about how you might not get a chance to kick a ball around a field tonight."

"He's joking. He's the boss," Killian clarified, just in case Emma had taken his brother's words seriously. "He won't get fired so don't worry about that."

Emma chuckled a little at Liam's mumble of, "Spoil-sport," before the eldest Jones brother slipped inside his car and softly closed the door behind himself, giving the others a moment alone to say their goodbyes.

"I'll um… I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, Killian. We'll uh… we'll be watching tonight and cheering you on."

"You'd better be," was all he said, as he made his way around to the passenger's side of the BMW and slipped inside.

Emma watched while Liam started the car and carefully pulled away before she decided to explore the silver vehicle that had been left behind. She wasn't at all surprised to find Henry's car seat already strapped into the backseat and a tank full of petrol waiting for her.

* * *

 **Thanks for being so patient with me while I battle these health issues. Hopefully once this next surgery is out of the way, I'll be a little more reliable.**


	25. Chapter 24

"Oh thank God. Is it over?" Mary-Margaret asked, lifting her head from the knitting needles she'd been focusing on all evening.

"Half time," Emma replied, standing from her seat and stretching out her legs.

"Half time? It feels like this game has been going on for hours."

Emma and her mother shared a small chuckle while David and Henry glared in their direction. It was half time and if her father's running commentary had been anything to judge by, the game wasn't going all that well. Emma had given up paying attention to it about fifteen minutes in, when the other team in white and blue stripes kept stealing the ball. She'd only briefly glanced away from her phone whenever one of the commentators had said the word, "Jones," but more often than not, someone else in white and blue stripes would steal the ball from him again.

"I'm gonna go for some coffee," she declared, grabbing her purse from her bag. "I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep before this game is over. Does anyone want anything?"

"It looks like Killian could do with some coffee right now," her father chuckled, and even though she knew it was impossible (the man couldn't be in two places at once), Emma's head still snapped towards the doorway to see if Killian Jones was standing there. She was just about to roll her eyes at her father's terrible joke when the meaning behind his words sunk in, and a cold sense of dread began building in her gut.

"What uh… what do you mean?" she asked, as casually as she could.

"He just looks a little sluggish tonight," David explained, waving away her concerns. "The poor guy probably didn't get a good night of sleep. It happens to the best of us."

Emma knew exactly why Killian hadn't gotten a good night of sleep, and she sank back down into her seat as guilt overwhelmed her. "It's my fault," she mumbled. "They might lose tonight and it's my fault."

"It's not your fault," her mother soothed, reaching out to cover Emma's hand with her own. "It's only nat - "

"I'm the reason he didn't get any sleep last night. I woke him up."

"You did what now?" David thundered, as he rose from his spot at Henry's bedside to fix his daughter with a hard stare.

It took a moment for Emma to understand her father's outrage and when she did, she sighed heavily. "Not like that, Dad. I just… my car died on me last night at work. The AA was quoting around two hundred pounds to get it back home and a taxi would have cost me close to fifty. With you at work, I didn't know who else to call. So… I called Killian."

"And he came and picked you up?" her mother asked. When Emma nodded her head, Mary-Margaret's eyes widened with her shock. "It was gone three when he dropped me at home and then he was back at my house this morning at eight-thirty. He can't have gotten much more sleep - if any. So… if they lose tonight, it's all my fault."

"Of course it's not your fault," her father soothed. "Helping out a friend in need is much more important than a bloody football match. Anyone who says differently is a heartless bastard."

Emma gave her father a small smile of thanks. She hated knowing that she'd had such a huge impact on the game that day, but she wasn't sorry she'd called Killian for help. The man had gone out of his way to make things as easy on her as they could be. And even though she knew that her parents would have helped where they could, having a car of her own gave Emma much more freedom than relying on busses and her father's working schedule.

"Do you need me to change my hours at work to help you get around?" David asked, right on cue.

"Uh, no. Killian, um… he kind of gave me a car."

"He gave you a car?" her mother repeated, a little like she couldn't understand the words her daughter had just spoken.

"Yeah."

"He bought you a new car?"

"He didn't buy it," she protested. "He said he already had it. It's got the same badge on the front of it as Henry's shirt."

All eyes in the room swung around to where Henry was sat in his bed, wearing his newest Manchester United football shirt and a strange look on his face, before they turned back to Emma again.

"He gave you his sponsorship car," David explained, like saying the words himself would help them to sink in. "Huh!"

For a moment, the room was completely silent as everyone tried to absorb the importance of what had happened earlier that day. Henry was the one to finally shatter it when his grandfather turned back to look at him and the little boy declared, "See! I told you so!"

"Told you what?" Emma worried.

"Nothing! It's not important. Now… how about that coffee before the second half?" her father asked, almost pulling Emma from her seat before he pushed her towards the open door.

* * *

"Hey."

Emma jumped slightly at the sound of the soft word spoken just behind her. She had been completely lost inside her mind as she waited for her turn to place an order at Costa the following afternoon. So she hadn't noticed Killian Jones creeping up behind her.

"Hey." It took a moment for Emma to recall the conversation they'd had outside of her home the day before, and when she did, she cast a quick look around the tables in the space as she asked, "Is your mum not here?"

"She went straight up to see Henry. She has cookies and brownies with her, so I think she plans to smuggle as many to him as she can, before you confiscate them."

Emma chuckled a little as she shuffled another step forward in the line. "Did you manage to snag some for yourself before she started smuggling them over to my son?"

"Hell yeah. I hid a box under my training bag. They'll be squashed by the time I get home tonight, but they'll still taste fine."

Emma giggled again at the look of boyish glee behind his eyes and then took that last step forward to put herself in front of the barista. She ordered her usual afternoon pick-me-up for herself and a cappuccino for Killian, before handing over the gift card he'd given her all those weeks before. Neither of them said anything as they waited for their order to be prepared, but when they both had their drinks in hand, Emma nodded her head to one of the empty tables at the back of the room and Killian followed her over to it.

"Sorry. I just uh… sometimes it's nice to see something that isn't just a white wall, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. This cheap, chipped wooden panelling is _really_ doing it for me," Killian teased, before sobering to add, "But I get it. And you never need to apologise for that, Emma. I'm always here when you need to get out a little. I can even bring my mam along to keep Henry entertained. I think it's more exciting for her than it is for him."

Emma chuckled a little into her coffee and then lifted her head to meet his steady gaze. "Thanks. I um… I saw the game last night," she added, when things between them started to feel a little awkward. "Dad said it was a good result."

"Eh, it could have been better," Killian admitted. "A win is always preferable. But at least we didn't lose and we didn't concede a goal either. So it definitely could have been worse."

"Will you um… will you think badly of me if I said it was a little boring? Football without goals is definitely not as fun as football _with_ goals."

Killian barked out a sharp laugh at Emma's brutal honesty. The only other person he'd ever heard speak so freely about his games was his brother. But Liam rarely paid enough attention to when Killian was playing to actually have any kind of knowledge about how the game had gone.

"Not at all," he assured her. "For me, it was incredibly frustrating. It felt like we were constantly running into a wall. And having the ball taken from you so often puts a stop to all of the gameplay that you've been working on for weeks. But I can see why the goals are the most exciting part of the game for you. I'll try and deliver a few more this weekend."

"You're playing again this weekend?"

Emma knew that being a footballer wasn't the same as working a retail job nine-to-five. But she also knew how much time Killian spent training for his games. She couldn't believe just how many he was expected to play - and in such a short period of time too.

"Of course. They make us work hard for those paycheques."

Emma giggled again at Killian's attempt at a joke, and when her amusement died down, he allowed a comfortable silence to settle between the two of them as they sipped at their drinks. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd probably laughed more around Killian Jones in the short time she'd known him, than she had in the previous decade combined. And Emma couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that made her feel so comfortable in his presence.

"My uh… my brother's coming in tomorrow for the harvest," he declared unexpectedly, startling Emma so much that she spluttered coffee all over their table.

"Shit. Sorry. I - "

"It's okay, Emma. It's fine," he assured her, reaching for a handful of napkins to mop up the mess. "It's my fault. I probably shouldn't have sprung that news on you like I did. I just wasn't sure if Doctor Whale would have told you guys yet. Liam only text me a couple of hours ago to let me know."

"No he um… Doctor Whale was busy with Lilly this morning. We haven't seen him yet." Emma looked like she was still trying to process what Killian had told her, so after disposing of the wet napkins he took a seat at the table once more and waited patiently for her to speak again. "He's really doing this," she finally whispered, and it took Killian a couple of seconds to work which _he_ she was talking about.

"Of course he is, Emma. He wouldn't have come in for the test if he didn't intend to go ahead with the donation when a match was found."

"I don't doubt your brother," she rushed to assure Killian. "I'm sure he's an honourable man. I just… a part of me wasn't sure we'd ever find a match for Henry. And now that we have, I guess I've just been waiting for something to come up before the procedure could be completed."

Killian scooted his chair around the table so that he could drape his arm over Emma's shoulders. While he'd never found himself in a situation quite like the one Emma was in now, he could certainly understand why she'd been so worried. Emma had only written to the team because she felt like she was out of options. She'd been used to being disappointed with the results of every avenue they'd explored. So naturally, she was expecting some kind of disappointment to come from this one.

And while Killian wasn't normally the praying type, he'd been praying every single night that his brother's donation wouldn't lead to more disappointment for Emma and her family.

"Liam's not gonna back out," he promised her, running his hand softly up and down her left arm. "He's just as determined to help Henry as the rest of us are. So please, don't ever doubt that."

Emma nodded her head to show that she'd heard him before she dropped it down to rest against his chest. The last eighteen months of her life had been exhausting, and if he was gonna offer her physical comfort, Emma was going to take it. Even if it was only for a few minutes at a time.

"It's gonna be okay, Emma. Have some faith," he whispered, tightening his arm around her.

Emma allowed herself just a moment more of the comfort he was offering before she straightened up and pulled back to put some space between them. "We um… we should probably get back upstairs."

"Of course," Killian agreed, giving her a soft smile. It wasn't full of pity, as she'd gotten used to seeing from other people. Instead, it looked more like solidarity than anything she'd experienced recently. And once again, Emma found herself wondering what she'd done to deserve having this wonderful man as a part of her life.

"Before we go up," he began carefully, and she turned to offer him her full attention. "I um… I'm not sure if Henry's said anything to you yet, but I was um… I was wondering if I could be here when they start his treatment?"

"Why?" Emma blurted out, and then immediately regretted it when Killian's face fell. "I don't… I just mean that it's not particularly nice to witness," she explained. "I wouldn't be here if Henry didn't need me for it. I _hate_ seeing him like that. I _hate_ that the only treatment for this condition makes him look and act sicker than this bloody illness does. Why would you wanna see that, Killian?"

"For the same reasons that you do."

He didn't need to say anything else. His meaning was coming through loud and clear with everything he'd left unspoken. Killian Jones loved her son with all of his heart, and Emma wasn't going to be the one to stop him from offering Henry some comfort during a difficult time in his recovery, if that was what her son wanted.

"If Henry wants you there, then I'm happy for you to stay."

"Thanks. I don't wanna impose but I'd um, I'd like to be there for as much of it as I can."

"You're not imposing, Killian. If anything, you and your family have only made things easier for mine. You're always welcome to spend time with us."

"I'm gonna hold you to that," he teased, instantly lightening the mood between the two of them as he did. "You'll be sick of me by the end of the year."

"I highly doubt that," Emma scoffed. "If you annoy me too much, I'll just leave you in charge of Henry and get some things done outside of the hospital." She pushed herself up to her feet and gathered the rubbish from their table, before casting a look over her shoulder at Killian as she asked, "What does your mum drink?"

"I'll get these while you get rid of that. Hot chocolate for Henry, right?"

Emma considered arguing with him. She still had plenty of money left on her gift card - and he'd given her a car for God's sake. But instead of doing so, she nodded her agreement and watched as Killian weaved his way through discarded chairs to get back to the counter. If their friendship was ever going to survive, Emma was going to need to push aside her pride and let him help her every now and then. After all, from what she could remember of her time spent at university, friends quite often brought each other drinks when they were out together. And maybe, just maybe, there would come a time in their future where Emma could be the one helping Killian when he needed it most.

* * *

Emma had been certain that nothing the Jones family could ever do would shock her, after everything they'd already done to help. But she'd certainly underestimated Moira Jones.

When she made it back up to Henry's room, her son had a new handknitted Manchester United blanket wrapped around his legs. He was eating what appeared to be fresh macaroni and cheese between pointing out superheroes to Mrs. Jones in what looked to be a brand new book.

"Oh, I like this one," Moira said, turning the book back to face Henry as she pointed at one of the characters drawn on the page. "Who's this one?"

"That's Dark Phoenix," Henry mumbled around a mouthful of pasta. He took a moment just to finish chewing and swallowing before he explained, "She's a bit of a bad guy, though."

"Oh dear. That's a shame."

"But she also has a good side too," Henry rushed to add, not wanting to disappoint the sweet older lady. "She's in the X-Men movies. I've only seen them once, but maybe you could watch them with me next time you come to visit?"

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. How about the same time next week?"

Henry hung his head a little and Emma felt Killian's form tense beside her. "Doctor Whale will have started my chemotherapy by then."

"Does that mean I can't come and see you?" Moira asked gently.

Emma appreciated that the other woman kept her tone light as she spoke. She knew this was a sensitive subject for everyone involved, but it was only natural for Killian's mother to have questions about Henry's treatment when she had no first-hand experience with what was involved.

"You can. But a lot of people don't," he explained. "Grandma doesn't like seeing me when I'm in treatment and Grandad's always working."

"I don't think I'd enjoy seeing it either," Moira replied carefully, and Henry's head dipped lower. "But if coming here and watching a movie with you helps to make your day a little better, I'm happy to do so. Maybe we could send your mam and Killian out to get some lunch while we're watching our movie?"

Henry's head perked up to offer Moira Jones one of his biggest smiles. The little boy threw his arms around her shoulders as he declared, "Thank you. I don't know if my mum will be happy leaving me - but she should. She's _always_ here with me or at work. She should have some fun too."

"I fully agree," Moira assured him. "I'll tell Killian tonight that he has to find somewhere he can take your mam for a couple of hours next week, and then you and I can watch these X-Men together, okay?"

Killian turned a cheeky smile Emma's way as he whispered, "Did you hear that, Swan? I'm taking you out next week!" And before Emma could open her mouth to protest, he took the couple of steps needed to put himself inside of Henry's room. "Afternoon, Lad. Did you leave some of that for me?" he asked, nodding his head at the empty pasta bowl as he took a seat beside Henry on the small hospital bed.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and sharing.**


	26. Chapter 25

The next morning, Liam Jones arrived at Manchester's Children's hospital an hour before he was asked to be there. He was a little nervous about the procedure he was about to undergo, and in particular, how painful the harvest would be. But his nerves hadn't been enough to stop him from getting out of bed that morning. No matter how uncomfortable he would be during his time at the hospital that day, Liam knew that Henry had probably been through worse ten times over. And it was that resolve which had pushed him through his morning routine.

Liam made a stop at the small coffee shop on site to order a couple of drinks before he headed up to the unit that Killian had taken him to visit the last time he'd been at the hospital. While his little brother couldn't be with him that morning, Killian had told Liam all about Emma's worries that something would go wrong before the transplant could be completed. So Liam had wanted to take a moment just to reassure her that he was already at the hospital and prepared for whatever would come that day. But when he popped his head around the door to Henry's room, Emma Swan wasn't in the space. Liam cleared his throat gently so as not to startle the young boy, and Henry lifted his head from the pad of paper he'd been drawing on.

"You're Killian's brother," he stated.

"I am," Liam chuckled. "Is your mam not here yet?"

"Yeah, she got here about an hour ago. She's just gone to call Nana," Henry explained. "She'll be back soon. You can come in and wait for her," he invited, perking up a little at the idea of a new guest to speak with.

Liam made his way carefully into the room, setting one of the paper cups down on the table beside Henry's bed, and the other in front of the little boy.

"I got you hot chocolate," he explained, nodding towards the small cup.

"Thanks," Henry enthused, reaching for it to take a sip. "Is the other one for my mum?" he asked, when he'd set the cup safely back down again.

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"Mum said you had the harvest procedure today. You're not allowed to eat and drink before going down to theatre."

Liam's heart squeezed painfully at the little boy's understanding of that rule. No child so young should know that piece of information, and he could suddenly understand why this cause had become so important to his brother.

"Have you been down to theatre much?" he asked, half-dreading Henry's reply.

"A few times," the little boy said, straightening up his pencils. "Usually for when they put in a central line. I don't like it down there. They won't let mum stay with me."

Liam reached out to cover Henry's small hand with his own, drawing the little boy's eyes up to meet his. "I feel the same way," he told him. "I've never been before but right now, all I really want is a hug from my mam."

"I can give you one," Henry offered. "Or you can ask my mum for one? I'm sure she won't mind."

Liam chuckled a little at the kid's kind offer. He didn't know Emma Swan well enough to know if she would be comfortable offering him a hug, but he had a feeling that his brother wouldn't be terribly happy to hear about them sharing one. So he decided to stick with Henry's original plan.

"A hug from you will be just fine," he assured him, and Henry quickly twisted in the bed to throw his arms around Liam's neck. The little boy hung on tightly for a few seconds longer than was socially acceptable, and when he finally pulled back, Liam could feel the sting of tears building in the corner of his eyes.

"I uh… I should probably go and attempt to find out where I need to check-in," he said, pulling back and standing up so that Henry wouldn't see his tears. "Will you tell your mam I said hi and that I've left her a coffee?"

"Sure," Henry agreed eagerly. "I hope the procedure isn't too painful for you."

"Thanks, kid. I don't think they'll let me come back and see you tonight, but I promise I'll stop by again soon, okay?"

Henry offered him an eager nod and warm smile before he turned his attention back to his drink, and Liam used the opportunity it provided to slip out of the room.

"Please let this work," he whispered to the heavens, as he made his way out of the unit and down to the surgical assessment centre he'd been asked to register with. Nothing he'd ever done in his life seemed as important as the procedure he was about to undergo.

* * *

It came as a surprise to absolutely nobody when Doctor Whale announced that he would be starting Henry's conditioning treatment on Monday morning. Liam's harvest had gone well, and time was now of the essence if they were going to give Henry's body the best chance of accepting the transplant.

While both Emma and Killian had been expecting the news, Killian still spent most of the rest of his week fretting over it. He was so distracted during training on Friday morning that Gold pulled him aside before he could leave the field that day.

"What's going on?" his coach asked. "Because if you don't get your head in the game soon, Boy, I'll bench ya."

"Sorry, Coach. I just uh… Henry's starting his conditioning treatment on Monday morning," Killian explained.

"I thought that was a good thing."

"Oh, it is," he rushed to assure Gold, because the older man asked after Henry at least once a week, and Killian didn't want to worry him unnecessarily. "I just uh… I was kinda hoping that I'd be there for it. I wanted to distract him a little from what was happening, you know?"

"If this is your way of asking for the morning off, Jones, you're not exactly going about it well," Gold told him sternly, before his expression softened completely. "Spend the morning with the lad. I can't give you _every_ morning off, unless you want me to bench you for the rest of the year. But I can give you one every couple of weeks, as long as you hit the gym for a few hours when you leave the hospital."

"I can definitely do that, Sir," Killian assured him, his face breaking out into a wide smile of relief. "The other guys won't mind, will they?"

"Of course not. They'd do the same thing in your position. And if anyone has anything to say about it, they can say it to me," Gold snapped, with that trademark frown of his covering his face once more. "Now, get out of my sight Jones - before I come up with a way to punish you for losing the ball so much this morning."

"Yes, Sir," Killian chuckled, but he quickly sprinted away from the training pitch to head for the indoor pools. He could never really be certain when his gaffer was joking, so he wasn't taking any chances. Knowing his luck, Gold would have him running laps for the next three hours, and Killian _really_ wasn't in the mood for that. He only hoped that helping his team to deliver a win that weekend would show Gold just how much he appreciated the other man's kind gesture.

* * *

Killian could barely sleep Sunday evening, which was quite remarkable, given that Sky Sports had tracked his movements earlier that day and were proudly boasting that he'd covered twelve and a half kilometres in the ninety-seven minutes that he'd been on the pitch. But with Henry's conditioning treatment due to start the following morning, his victory earlier that day was the last thing on his mind.

When he'd gotten back from celebrating with the team, Killian had found himself sitting behind his barely-used laptop as he pulled up all of the information he'd found on the process online. Again.

He hadn't wanted to bother Emma with all of his questions about the procedure, given how worried she was. So he'd turned to the internet as his source of information. The NHS's website had been helpful, but Killian had found a veritable goldmine of information on some of the cancer forums he'd stumbled over. The people there had been more than happy to answer his questions in the hopes of reassuring him that his friend's son would be fine. And Killian had found some comfort in discussing his darkest fears with people who had already lived through them.

When he'd finished reviewing everything, he'd finally decided to head to bed, knowing that his body would need some rest. But that rest hadn't come. And when the first rays of light began peeking through the gaps in his curtains, Killian had hauled himself out of bed to take a long, hot shower.

After forcing down some toast for breakfast, he had climbed into his car and headed back to the Children's Hospital. He knew that he was awake far too early to be let in to see Henry, and he knew that the small café on-site would probably be closed too. But as he pulled into the car park and swung his vehicle effortlessly into one of the spaces there, he felt a little more at ease. At least he was close to Henry now, should his friend need anything from him. And he wouldn't arrive too late to be allowed onto the unit to see the little boy.

Killian spent the next couple of hours distracting himself by organising his finances (he might have sent another anonymous donation to the hospital while he was at it) and then playing Candy Crush on his phone. He'd never really played the game before, not understanding the hype that had surrounded it when it was first released. But it was mindless enough to keep him occupied as he watched the day brighten further and the car park around him begin to fill.

When the clock in the top corner of his screen told him that it was closing in on the time Emma usually arrived at the hospital, Killian pocketed the device and slid out of his car, stretching his aching muscles. He was certainly going to pay for the lack of proper care he'd given to his body after the game, and the amount of time he'd spent cramped up behind a steering wheel. But it would be nothing compared to what Henry was about to go through.

Killian closed the door to his car and locked it with a simple flick of his finger, before he headed over to the path to wait for Emma.

It didn't take long for him to spot the silver Chevrolet he'd gifted to her swing into the car park and into a space not far from where he'd parked his own vehicle. As Emma had picked a spot closer to the entrance than he had, Killian made his way over to her car to wait for her. She must have been distracted by something on her phone, however, as when he pulled the door open for her, Emma let out a small squeak of surprise.

"Jesus Christ, Killian. You scared the shit out of me," she chided.

"Sorry. I did wave, but I think you were too distracted to notice."

"I was trying not to scratch your car."

"It's _your_ car," he threw back, stepping aside to let her climb down before he pushed the door shut behind her.

Emma looked like she was ready to protest again, but as she turned her eyes up to his face, her expression fell a little. One of her hands rose to hover just beside his right cheek before she reached out to run a tentative finger under the dark circle below his eye.

Killian swallowed hard at the contact.

"You didn't sleep either, huh?" she asked.

"No."

Neither of them needed to say anything else. That one small exchange had perfectly summarised how they were both feeling about the day they had ahead of them.

When Emma finally turned to head for the entrance, Killian quickly fell into step beside her. His strong and confident presence was oddly reassuring, given what they were about to face. But the silence allowed Emma's mind to wander, and she knew that if she was going to make it through the day, she needed to stop that from happening.

"So, uh… we saw the game yesterday. Congratulations. That was a fairly impressive goal that you scored."

Killian felt his cheeks heat a little under her praise. It wasn't unheard of for him to score for his team. He'd even won the Golden Boot a time or two before. But there was something about Emma's praise for his goal that felt completely different to the words his teammates had heaped upon him, in the heat of the moment.

"Thanks. But I got lucky. There weren't a lot of viable options without me playing the ball back, so I figured I'd give it a shot. Nine times out of ten, the ball never would have hit the back of the net."

"You do realise that you just made that sound even more impressive, right?" Emma teased, and Killian turned to her with an adorably bemused look on his face.

He'd genuinely just been trying to explain how much luck had been on his side that afternoon. But as he played the words back over in his mind, he could see why she'd find that achievement impressive.

"Do you uh… do you wanna grab a coffee before we head up?" he asked, in an attempt to change the topic of their conversation away from his working achievements.

Emma flicked her eyes down to the watch on her left wrist and then over to the coffee shop. "Not today," she eventually said. "They won't let us take food and drink in while Henry's undergoing treatment, and I don't want to be late for it."

Killian nodded his head sharply in agreement. He'd known that. Somewhere in his research, he'd read that Henry would need to be in what was called "medical isolation" now that he was about to undergo a delicate transplant. But it had slipped to the back of his mind under the weight of everything else that he'd read over the last few weeks.

"Of course. Sorry. Uh… let's grab the elevator before it's called elsewhere," he suggested, nodding his head in that direction.

Emma offered him a small smile and followed the footballer who jogged down the hall to hold the elevator, which had already stopped on their floor. When the doors slid closed behind the two of them, a painfully awkward silence seemed to settle in the small space. It was unlike anything Killian had ever experienced around Emma Swan before. And it was a little unsettling.

There was so much that he wanted to say to her. So many words he could offer to reassure her that not only was Henry going to be fine, but that she would be too. However, none of them felt right. Killian knew that no amount of hope or positive vibes could guarantee that everything would be fine. And the last thing he wanted to do was make promises to Emma that he couldn't keep.

So instead of offering her those words, Killian decided to offer her the only real thing he could be certain of – himself. He reached out to wrap the fingers of his right hand around Emma's left and then squeezed them gently in a silent display of reassurance.

For a brief moment, the woman standing beside him tensed a little at his touch, and Killian almost pulled away. But when her body relaxed again and her hand softened inside of his, she offered him a small squeeze of her own. It was a silent thank you for being there that morning.

The elevator juddered to a halt on Henry's floor and Killian offered Emma's hand another small squeeze as the doors slid open. But he didn't immediately let go of it.

He was finally forced to relinquish his grip when Belle met them at the entrance to the unit. Her arms were full of protective clothing and she gave them both strict instructions on how to prepare themselves before they could see Henry. Killian had been expecting this too. Henry's delicate condition meant that every precaution would be taken to make sure no complications could jeopardise the transplant for him. And if putting on a hospital gown, blue booties, and scrubbing his skin with an antibacterial wash was the way to prevent that, he would gladly do it for the rest of his life.

But absolutely no amount of preparations and research could ever have prepared Killian for the sight that greeted him when Belle finally ushered them into Henry's room. The space had been stripped bare in order to keep it as clean and hygienic as possible, and the little boy himself was sleeping in the middle of the bed with more wires and tubes coming from his body than ever before.

"Jesus Christ," Killian whispered, trying hard to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall.

Emma's hand found its way back into his own and she gave Killian's fingers a tight squeeze before letting go to make her way around the room and over to her son's bedside. Killian took a moment to compose himself and then headed for the chair on the other side of the bed.

A silent look passed between Emma and Killian as they each took one of Henry's hands to hold between their own. They would let him sleep for as long as they possibly could that morning, knowing that what was to come was likely to drain him of what little energy he might have. And they would be by his side all day, until the moment he fell back to sleep again later that evening.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading and reviewing.**

 **For those of you who don't know, I'm going through some difficult times personally at the moment both with my health and in my private life, so I'm afraid updates will remain sporadic for the time being because I just don't have the time or energy to dedicate to my fandom life right now.**


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